Time of our Destiny
by chrissytingting
Summary: From some odd spell, Tom Riddle is sent spiraling to the future. Power hungry and handsome, he takes his spot as the Dark Lord and captures Hermione in the process. As prisoner of war, Hermione will do anything to run away... right? DARK after chapter 7.
1. Part One: To Hate or Not To Hate

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes:** Hello, fanfiction readers! This is my first novel-length story, so I'm just testing out the waters. I hope you enjoy, and do review!

**Author's Note Update: **Originally, I was going to take down this story because, after rereading it, I really didn't like what I wrote. However, because of some begging/requests/demands/threats, I decided to keep this up. Because of this, I warn you that there will be points where **people are out of character, situations that are not realistic, and places where there are grammar errors**. I contemplated making this story go through mass editing, but I really don't have the time, and my current stories have a much higher priority. Thank you, and I hope that you enjoy.

**Time of our Destiny**

_By Chrissytingting _

Hermione shivered and wrapped her black cloak around her tighter; it was a black cocoon to keep her warm. The candlelight flickered and sent strange orange light all around the dorm, and a warm yet mysterious aura poured in from all around the bedposts. She bent closer to the parchment and neatly dipped her quill in the dark ink before scratching some more words down, pausing only once with a thoughtful look on her face.

She looked outside at the wind that was howling loudly and whistling around the castle. It was pitch black and a feeling of somberness had settled on the outdoors. Or perhaps it was only misunderstood as sullen, for it was truthfully very frightening, as if in a temper. Grateful for the warmth of the castle, she placed her quill down, and, satisfied with her essay, pushed her homework into her book bag.

Hermione lightly skipped into the common room that was splashed with red and sparkling with gold. A roaring fire warmed everyone who was chatting in the common room.

"Oi, Mione!" Ron called, waving to her with a huge grin on his face. His face was as red as his hair, and his happiness made his eyes glow.

Harry had a satisfied look on his face, though his smile was nearly nothing compared to the ecstatic look on his friend.

Hermione lightly made her way over to them on the sofa, sitting down and putting an arm on the back of the seat. "Somebody's in a good mood," she teased, setting down her books.

"You should've seen me! That was the best quidditch practice I've _ever _had! It was right before the storm, too! You should've seen that goal that I saved! So Katie shot the Quaffle at the goal at nearly a billion kilometers an hour and I dove in for the catch…" Ron rambled on, getting more and more excited as he went.

Harry and Hermione shared a knowing look with each other, zoning out until finally, Ron stopped, gasping for breath.

"That's nice, Ron," Hermione commented after silence ensued. She crossed her ankles and refrained from yawning. Quidditch was such a boring subject.

"That's all?" Ron asked, anger and disappointment beginning to seep into his tone already. It was an immediately different and dramatic change: his face drastically changing from elated to a dark countenance.

Hermione started at that, sensing his change of mood. "No, Ron, that was amazing. But you _know _that I'm not into quidditch."

"Um…" Harry cut in, his emerald eyes flickering in between his best friends. He changed tactic and brought up a new subject. "Ron and I did our homework for the first time, right mate?" he nudged the fuming Ron, who was now red from anger instead of exhilaration.

"Yeah, whatever. She's not _interested _in what happens to us anyways," Ron sneered got up with a jeering look on his face. "Come on, Harry."

Harry looked as his two friends, torn, and half irritated that they were arguing yet _again _over something stupid and half nervous about having to choose over them.

He got up and stood next to Ron, giving Hermione a telepathic message over his desperate expression: '_Please, he needs me right now.' _

Hermione shrugged as if Harry had said it out loud, blinking twice as if for yes. She flipped her curly brown locks over her shoulder and looked away, frustrated at how easily Ron became furious.

"Fine. Go. Have your fun at quidditch. It's storming out anyways," Hermione said with indifference, glancing away from her two best friends. As if to animate her sentence, a bolt of lightening flashed across the sky, a bright white streak that seemed to light the very heavens. The thunder that followed nearly shook the great castle, rumbling and vibrating. The rain poured down, pounding on the ceilings and splattering on the ground.

Ron jumped slightly, flinching away from the sound. "Let's go," he tugged on Harry's arm, dragging them away from the girl with a disgusted look on his face to cover his weakness of the rain.

Harry's green eyes reflected his anxiousness to get this little argument over with, and soon, his friend was already ranting.

"Whatever. _She _can do whatever she wants to do. _She _can go care about her little best friend, Parchment. See if _I _care. It doesn't matter anyways," Ron snorted, glaring daggers at Hermione.

Accenting his point, Hermione was busy scribbling notes in the margins of her Ancient Runes book. She carefully concealed her hurt expression behind a curtain of her thick, unruly hair.

Harry tried to ignore Ron's violent jab at his other friend. "Well… Mione's allowed to like what she wants to. If she doesn't want to talk about quidditch… then it's all right, don't you think?" he asked, attempting to knock some common sense into his friend's head. As predicted, his attempt failed.

"It isn't _about _her likes and dislikes, Harry! Don't you see? All she cares about is books and grades, and everything I do isn't good enough for _her!" _Ron cried, stomping his foot like a little child.

Harry sighed as if in defeat. If only Ron knew how much Hermione liked him… But before he could find something to say, Ron went on. He was on a roll now.

"I'm so _sick _of her. Her and her little smart-mouth, who needs her anyways, right Harry?" Ron sneered.

"Um…"

"I'm going dinner. Coming, Harry?" Ron already was stalking away from him, fury and vehemence rolling off of his body. Harry wouldn't even be surprised if the actual rage that Ron felt was actually tangible.

Some first years stumbled away from Ron when they saw his bared teeth and frightening expression, meekly drawing back and nearly trembling when Ron demanded, "What are _you _looking at?"

Harry scuffled after his friend, keeping in mind to watch his friend before he did something reckless or something that Ron would regret. He sighed. It sounded as if he was going to baby-sit his best friend for now.

However, despite Harry's desperate efforts to keep Ron in sight, Ron had already disappeared within the barrage of people. His sigh was followed by an eye-lighting dose of adrenaline when he saw Hermione, pushing through crowd. Some people gave him disgusted looks, but when some girls noticed that it was Harry, they flipped their hair expertly and batted their make-up smothered eyes.

The Boy-Who-Lived ignored their pitiful attempts of flirting as well as he could: he wasn't a mean person, and purposefully ignoring them made him feel insolent.

"Hermione!" Harry called, willing for her to stop as he rushed forward. Thankfully, she caught him with a firm grip on his arm right before he flipped forward and tripped over his own laces.

"Harry," she answered with a weak smile in place, waiting for him to regain composure as he steadied himself and quickly tied his shoe. People dispersed and merged around them, giving them minimal room as they moved around them.

Harry smiled wanly at his friend. "Hey. Um… yeah, about before? You do know that I only chose Ron because…"

"Because he needs help much more than I do, I know," Hermione said, her face in a pleasant mask. She grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him so that they were going the same direction as the students. Her cloak lightly swished across the cold stone ground: it was only slightly too long for her. "You really did your homework?" she asked amusedly.

"Er… yeah," Harry smiled convincingly.

"Are you lying…?"

"No… We just… _borrowed _Katie's paper when she was practicing before time." Harry offered a decent look of guilt and shame.

"Harry!"

"Yeah…" Harry muttered sheepishly, cursing himself for not being able to lie as well as he was able to do before when he was young and innocent. Now he was tagged as a trouble-making recalcitrant.

Hermione suddenly felt as if she rammed headfirst into a boulder, toppling over just as she was about to reach the Great Hall. Eyes on her destination, she didn't notice the person standing right before her before it was too late.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," a familiar cold drawl came from her left. Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy's ice silver eyes stare back at her, his expression forming a sneer. He brushed his authentic and genuinely expensive cloak and flicked his fingers, disgusted that he had touched her.

Harry offered Hermione a hand, pulling her up to a standing position. His own eyes were sparkling dangerously, narrowing at the Slytherin boy. "Stay away from her."

"Tell me, _Potter. Why _would I even _want _to be near that _Mudblood?" _Malfoy leered, and his two dumb bodyguards seemed to appear next to him as if an alarm had sounded. They stared at the two Gryffindors with piggy eyes, blinking moronically with a blank look on their faces.

"Is that the best you can do?" Hermione shrugged back Harry's silent restraint. She pushed on. "You seem to be running out of insults, Malfoy, since you only seem to know one!"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed into silver slits, his 10" hawthorn wood wand appearing in his pale hand. He did not aim it at them, and instead, only mocked them by twirling his wand in his hand. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles with a malicious glint in their eyes.

"Oh, shoot me Malfoy," Hermione taunted. Harry looked back and forth between the two of them frantically, moving subtly forward to shield Hermione from the Malfoy.

The Slytherin boy was definitely thinking of his chances. It was clear in his eyes for a one mere second, but being a Malfoy, he quickly enshrouded his uncertainty with his patented smirk. Hermione was known for her intelligence… could he win?

"You're not worth my time," Malfoy spat, whirling around and letting his cloak whirl out behind him, stalking away with his two cronies matching his shadow.

"I must say that that was brave," Harry commented as they proceeded to the Great Hall. He watched Hermione carefully. "You've got a lot of anger in you today."

"As a result of Ron's cricket-sized mind," Hermione answered, "I feel like fighting back. And believe me: that felt good. I didn't get sorted into Gryffindor for nothing." She smiled at him, her perfectly white teeth flashing in the bright lights.

"Or else you'd be in Ravenclaw. _Everyone _thought that you should be sorted into that House instead," Harry laughed amusedly when the bright demeanor of the Great Hall poured around them. The enchanted ceiling was a midnight blue, a royal and ravishing color. "Um… I better go…"

"… Because Ron is going to feel betrayal and call you a traitor if you don't," Hermione finished for him. When Harry gave her an apologetic look, Hermione soothed his guilt by adding on hastily, "It's alright. Try to knock some logic in his little head for me, won't you?"

Harry nodded eagerly and galloped away to erase evidence that he and Hermione were getting along from Ron.

Ron was already stuffing beef down his throat, his cheeks puffing out as a result of over-filling the food.

Harry began laughing quietly, looking at Ron. "Merlin Ron, you look like a chipmunk," he commented lightly, smiling to show that it was a mere joke.

"Whatever," Ron said flatly with his mouth full; beef dropping out of his mouth. Harry tried not to flinch away from the repugnant show that Ron was putting on. Ron chewed and chewed and chewed until finally he could swallow with a glaring expression plastered on his face. Harry followed Ron's line of vision and saw that Ron was watching Hermione, who was silently sitting beside Ginny. When Hermione saw Ron looking at her, she glanced away quickly.

"See? I'm not 'good enough to be her friend'," Ron snapped, pointing at her.

"Ron… don't you think that you might be overreacting?" Harry asked with an expression that was almost meek.

"'Overreacting'?" Ron quoted with a sneer. "I _sincerely _doubt that, Harry. If _you _want to join the know-it-all, go ahead. See if I care."

"I never said–"

"Whatever," Ron said again, waving it off and eyeing the pie.

Harry sighed and decided that this wasn't the time to tell Ron to watch what he was eating. Anything related to Ron's behavior would remind him of Hermione, and the last thing Harry needed was for Ron to throw a tantrum or a childish hissy fit.

"Hermione isn't worth anything," Ron suddenly said in a loud voice, many turning to stare at him with open mouths and gawks. "See? All she's worth is parchment and quills, what other worth is there in her?" He looked as if he had just figured everything out.

"Ron! What are you doing! Hermione's your _friend." _Harry yanked Ron down as the redhead began rising from his seat as if to make a public announcement.

"She _was _my friend," Ron corrected, his skin turning red. "_You _seem to still think that she's something."

Harry gritted his teeth. "You're acting like Malfoy! You _know _that she's your friend and always will be!" he whispered rapidly.

Ron threw off Harry's restraining arm and shrugged. Harry looked up to see Hermione throw down her napkin, keeping down tears, as she streaked out of the Great Hall, many eyes following her, some sympathetic while others were just shocked. The only laughter and sneers came from the Slytherin table.

Harry hated this fight was only getting worse and worse. Ron just always seemed to push her until she fell. Especially since this time it was only because Hermione didn't seem interested in quidditch, and only because of that.

Harry began to stand up when a cool voice said behind him, "Hermione will be fine. Give her some time alone," Luna murmured in a dreamy tone, her eyes unfocusing before watching Harry again.

"I– right," Harry said with a grateful glance. "Thanks," he whispered, much softer than before so that Ron wouldn't hear.

Luna just cocked her head and nodded nearly imperceptibly before turning around slowly and prancing down the hall on her tippy-toes. It was the strangest sight.

Just outside the thick layer of the grey slabs of stone was Hermione, her sleek brown curls forming a protected hollow around her face, and most likely hiding her streaks of tears.

Light footsteps made her ears prick up in annoyance. Why couldn't everyone just _leave her alone? _But the voice that spoke was not one that she recognized.

"Where am I?" the stranger asked in a fluid voice, flowing in a bass musical cadence. He offered no greeting or any warmth when the words rolled off of his tongue, but for some odd reason it seemed enough.

Hermione looked up, attempting to quickly wipe the tears off of her pink cheeks. "Um… who are you?" she whispered, not allowing herself to speak out loud for fear that the stranger would detect the fact that she had just been hurt lately and would take advantage of her weakness. She gripped her wand in one hand.

The stranger was every bit as handsome as he was when he was motionless. Hermione was not one to fall simply for good looks, but she really never saw someone as handsome as he. The older boy had jet-black hair and the palest of skin, though it was not in an ailing way. But what made her extremely curious were his eyes: the darkest of eyes, and it seemed as though to have layers and layers of color within them, each hiding a different secret.

And yet, every bit of his eyes looked indifferent and as hard as flint.

"You don't know me," the boy answered, and though it was meant to be a question, he said it as if a statement that was waiting for confirmation. His eyes did not betray any emotion or any part of his identity.

"No, I don't," Hermione answered, eyeing him warily. Her previous self-pitying demeanor was gone, leaving only some traces behind on her damaged heart. She knew that the pain of Ron's words would come back soon. But this person seemed to as if present an adventure: she needed to find out who his is.

He stared at her as if in a challenging way, and Hermione answered with an unflinchingly browbeat gaze. She felt as if he was trying to find out who she was just as much as she was trying to decipher the code in his dark eyes.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said, hinting for him to identify himself.

He watched her with those eyes that made her feel as if she were drowning. "Tom."

"Why are you here?"

Tom answered with silence. After several minutes of stillness and tension, he spoke: "I'm to speak with the headmaster." It was a blunt statement, spoken with authority and conviction in his liquid voice.

Hermione blinked. "If you want to know where the headmaster's office is, you only have to ask. A simple 'please' will do as well." She may not be able to read his eyes and understand exactly what he felt at the moment, but she knew fairly well that he honored and treasured his authority and considered himself higher than others. What more to prove her assessment was the Slytherin crest on his stark black robes. He must be a pureblood.

Wait… Slytherin crest? How was that possible? She would've recognized someone like him…

"I can see you looking at my Slytherin crest," he said smoothly. "In that case, I must be a student at Hogwarts. And you can furthermore infer that I know where the headmaster's office is."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, the hand gripping her wand tightening. "Who are you, and how do you have a Slytherin robe?" she demanded

Tom's face was emotionless and dispassionate, nearly convincing Hermione that he was a statue. "Who is the headmaster?" he asked curtly. Tom articulated every word as if his life depended on it.

"Professor Dumbledore, of course. He's been the headmaster for decades, I'd think," Hermione answered, cocking her head to one side. "I demand to know who you are! I'm a prefect, and it is my duty to escort you to the headmaster."

Tom didn't answer. Instead, he just nodded stiffly and stalked off toward the direction of the headmaster's office with an air of confidence.

"You said that your name is Tom. What's your surname?"

Tom blinked. A smirk came across his face. "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. But why would I keep such a dirty-blooded filthy name?" Before Hermione could even process what just happened, he whirled around and was enshrouded within the shadows.

Hermione's jaw dropped, her knees shaking so badly that she crumpled to the floor, clutching a pillar. The debilitating wind howled restlessly, rain endlessly crushing down to where gravity pulled.

"_Merlin… I did _not _just get charmed by Voldemort," _Hermione thought, imploring any higher being that this was true. How could the young and nearly human version of the Dark Wizard be here right now? What happened? Her heart seemed to be on the break again, slowly building up.

Ron hated her. He thought that she was worthless, or perhaps she was worth one galleon of parchment and quills. Malfoy detested her. That one didn't hurt, the only part that struck close to her core was that he only hated her for her blood. She felt weaker every time he called her that, though in some way, she felt as if she were stronger too, lasting through and getting used to every sledge of the hammer. Like metal, every time something hit her, she'd only get stronger.

The next was that Tom Riddle interested her. She didn't _want _to kill him then and there. He seemed so… young and full of life. Sure he wasn't all happy and innocent. But he showed talent and hope, like a young plant that just needs to be nurtured but never got that type of care.

It was hard to think assertively. Hermione found herself always wandering back to the point that if Tom Riddle never existed, then Voldemort wouldn't be haunting every wizard and witch's dreams. His snake face that was as pale and as cold as snow with the blood-shot eyes filled dreads and despair into every person who had a heart.

Either way, she knew that the headmaster was in for a surprise for the first time in his long life.


	2. To Say or Not To Say

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you, EYESviolet and ClaireReno, for reviewing!

_I feel so alive_  
_I can't help myself, don't you realize_  
_I just wanna scream and lose control_  
_Throw my hands up and let it go_  
_Forget about everything and runaway, yeah_  
_Just want to fall and lose myself_  
_Laughing so hard it hurts like hell_  
_Forget about everything and runaway, yeah_

_-Avril Lavigne, Runaway_

Tom walked confidently and without a falter in his step as he headed toward the direction of the headmaster's office. It was quite a drawback that Professor Dumbledore was the headmaster. He never quite liked the Transfiguration teacher.

Why? Because Dumbledore always seemed to be able to _understand. _It was rare when anyone to find out anything when they were in Tom's presence… and Dumbledore was that exception.

Tom didn't pay any attention to the girl. She was merely a tool, somebody that he could easily manipulate, just like all of the others. Of course, somewhere inside of him, he knew that she _must _be observant if she found out anything about him. Useful...

The dark hallways were lit dimly with torches, the orange light flickering and reflecting off of the cold stonewalls. It created a mysterious and odd feeling.

The boy turned sharply right, the outside moon's light hitting his face exactly at the right angle, to show his sharp features. His high cheekbones jutted out from his pale face, a light shadow on his cheek. His perspicacious dark irises seemed to spiral around the pupil, and strand of black hair just above his eyebrow.

With agility, Tom climbed the staircase. He looked around as if to scour the area, and then arrived right at the headmaster's office.

He cocked his head to one side, eyebrows slightly raised. The boy closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Dumbledore was standing before him with his annoyingly warm, blue eyes.

"Tom! What a surprise," Dumbledore smiled, confusion barely evident in his eyes. "Come on in." He murmured the password and the golden statue of a phoenix turned around, its wings opening to allow entrance to a spiral staircase.

Dumbledore gestured for the boy to enter first, following after him. There was tension in the silence, too quiet for comfort, as the phoenix rose. When they reached the top, Dumbledore once again gestured for Tom to enter.

The room was filled with all type of books and magical objects. In the corner was the Pensieve, just slightly open, the blue glowing light trickling out of the thick stone case. The blue light reflected all over the room, mixed with the warm golden flush from the liquid memories that were on a circular bronze rack, to create a strange feeling of being underwater. Lines of eloquent turquoise and gold curled as if to represent waves.

"Do sit," Dumbledore offered another smile, watching Tom's appraising eyes. He pointed to a comfortable looking seat that seemed to be dedicated to Gryffindor spirit: the cushion was a lovely warm blush while the trimming was a sparkling gold.

Tom inclined his head in acknowledgment and glanced at the seat cynically before obliging, his back ramrod straight.

"What tea do you prefer, Tom?" the headmaster asked pleasantly, seemingly unaware of Tom's seething glare.

"I am not thirsty, _thanks," _the boy responded. His tone was of indifference, free of betraying any hidden emotion.

Dumbledore nodded and poured himself some bush tea before sitting down across from the once Head Boy. "So, Tom. How are you?"

"Fine, sir."

"Fine? Good," the professor answered with a genuine tone. "Do you like bush tea? It's one of my favorites."

Tom's expression distorted ever so slightly. "No, I find it quite bitter."

Dumbledore just nodded. "Yes, yes, I've heard of people complaining about the strange taste as well. And I will say that hot cocoa is much more attractive than the bitter taste."

"Yes," Tom's eyebrows met together, his unnaturally long fingers drumming on his legs impatiently.

Professor Dumbledore noticed. "You will never get an answer if there is no question, Tom."

Riddle looked up at him with no expression, his stone mask easily cloaking his surprised one. "Oh? Why do you suppose so?"

"One of the perks of being headmaster is to seemingly know most events that happen," Dumbledore smiled softly. "And I'm sure that your meeting with Ms. Granger went well?"

"Quite well," Tom shifted uncomfortably. "What happened to Professor Dippet, sir?"

"Ah," Professor Dumbledore looked happily triumphant. "Do you see now that you will never get an answer if there is no question?"

"Yes, sir."

The headmaster leaned back, completely at ease that he was here, chatting with the future Dark Lord. "Professor Dippet retired a while ago, Tom," he said.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed. "What year is it?"

"1996," Dumbledore answered, watching Tom's expression mar slightly before returning to an expressionless look.

"1996," the boy repeated. A light hiss came out as the result of his breath rushing out from between his teeth.

Dumbledore nodded, his countenance drastically turning into a rather serious one. "Some rather complex spell must have hit you, Tom. It is quite an interesting concept, and though I must say that this idea is quite hard to grasp, I have no doubt that your mind will have trouble with it," he eulogized.

Tom nodded politely, the praise glancing off of his mind as if it hardly mattered.

"Time is the strangest thing," Dumbledore began. "The peculiar spell that has hit you is much different than time turners and such. As you are transported to what we call, as strange as it may seem to you, current time, or from your perspective, future time, your body from our past time or your current time disappears. Are you with me?"

Tom nodded. In other words, his body disappeared only to appear here and that there was only one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Your present self, or in your view point, your future self, also disappears, as if being put on hold."

The young Voldemort felt a pang of irritation. If he knew what was going to happen to him in the future, he'd be able to _prepare_… and what things did he achieve? Was he the Dark Lord yet, feared by and haunting every person's nightmares?

"Is there a cure?" Tom questioned.

"A cure? Tom, time is neither a sickness nor an illness. But as you understand it, there isn't a known counter-spell… in exception to one. Yet the consequences of misinterpreting the spell are violent and can cost your life, and the chances of messing the spell up itself is great," Dumbledore said wisely and gravely. His blue eyes suddenly turned into an amused expression. "In other words, you will attend Hogwarts and continue your learning until I deem upon a half-insane resolution."

Tom blanched imperceptibly. He had no time to be dilly-dallying with a wooden stick in Charms class or feeding a puppet in Care of Magical Creatures.

"In the mean time, I suggest you make some _friends," _Dumbledore paused after that word, letting it sink in, "and settle in. You may sleep in the Slytherin dorm tonight. I will send I will speak to the professors."

"Yes, sir," Tom managed.

"Professor Snape will lead you to your dorm," Dumbledore added, and right then, Severus Snape arrived at the golden arch that led to the spacious room.

"You asked for me, Headmaster?" he asked, dangerously soft. His black eyes flickered to Tom's still figure, staring back at him.

Dumbledore beamed as if they were all old friends. "Greetings, Severus. Tom here needs to be led to his dorm tonight. Perhaps you'd take the liberty to lead him there?"

Snape stared at Tom, recognizing him instantly. His pitch black eyes wandered back to Dumbledore. "He's…"

"Yes, yes. I will speak to all of the staff tomorrow first thing in the morning," the professor answered.

Professor Snape inclined his head slightly and gestured for Tom to follow. The boy stood up stiffly, preparing to leave.

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "And I nearly forgot, the old mind of mine. You mustn't let others be acquainted with your last name, they might pick it up in the trophy room."

"Yes, sir," Tom repeated. He left the room as fast as he could without seeming to be in haste. When he finally left the smiling Dumbledore and the underwater accommodation.

One small face twisted its way to his mind: Hermione Granger knew his full name.

And that would make him vulnerable.

That would make him weak.

That would make him in a place as a victim.

That would make him in her power.

Tom looked up to see Snape looking at him with a calculating look. He had the feeling that Snape knew exactly who he was, and how, he did not know. Perhaps he succeeded in becoming the Dark Lord?

"This way," Snape muttered and took a left. They travelled down the marble staircase and down to where Tom instantly recognized as the dungeon as the met the plain, bare wall. The professor murmured the password and the door swung open to reveal a low-ceilinged, dungeon-like room with glowing green lamps and skulls placed in the corners. It had a cold demeanor, especially compared to all of the other House's common rooms. Carved armchairs were seated in the middle around a strangely green fireplace.

There was no one to be seen.

"You will be sharing a dorm with Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini, and Gregory Goyle," Snape hissed softly to avoid waking the entire House. He watched Riddle's reaction carefully, and he thought he saw the slightest trace of recognition with the pureblooded last names.

Snape knocked on the wooden door leading to one of the rooms, and after some rustling and some annoyed curses, the door opened to reveal Draco Malfoy, his white-blonde hair disheveled, in his green and silver pajamas, true to his House's colors.

"Oh!" Malfoy drew back slightly in his surprise. "Professor."

Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini immediately were by his side, identical masks of astonishment and embarrassment on their faces. "Professor Snape!"

Snape looked at their expressions and flicked his finger to Tom. "This is Tom. He's new to Hogwarts, and I trust that you will treat him with _respect," _he said oily, a warning note in his tone. If Tom Riddle ever changed back to Voldemort, he'd have their heads if they made fun of him…

Malfoy blinked his silver grey eyes. "Of course, professor."

"I expect for you to show him to the Great Hall next morning. And perhaps lend him some items, he's currently not accessible to his own," Snape listed it off. "Good night," he hissed, though the way he said 'good' was certainly not that pleasant. He turned on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him like a black cloud, and disappeared.

Malfoy looked at Tom warily and said, "Come in," opening the door a little wider. Tom slipped in between the cracks and was immediately on instant alert when Malfoy closed the door.

"What's your name?" Zabini asked, returning to his bed and sitting down cross-legged, with a look of insipidness.

"Professor Snape already told you," Tom answered promptly, nodding in acknowledgement at Draco, who threw him a pair of PJs. "It's Tom."

Crabbe laughed stupidly, having already forgotten Snape's instructions. "We're talking about your last name, moron." He looked at Malfoy with an expression that implied that he was looking for approving look.

Malfoy remained stony-faced and just waited for Tom to respond.

Tom thought quickly. If he told, he'd be disobeying Dumbledore, and his goal now was to stay under the radar. The Slytherin boys would also know that he wasn't a pureblood…

He simply gave them a dark glare and left to the bathroom to change.

When Riddle came out of the austere bathroom, he found the other four boys smothered under their blankets, two of the fat boys (Crabbe and Goyle, who else?) snoring loudly. Irritation clouded his mind and he flicked his wand over to the two figures, their snores immediately silenced.

The blonde-haired one sat up and looked at him with his cold grey eyes. "Why didn't you tell them your last name?" he drawled. A yawn followed.

"It doesn't matter," Tom answered, his own eyes even topping Malfoy's ice cold glare.

"Whatever," Malfoy waved it off, yawning once again before slipping deep into the comforters and burying his head into his pillow. _"Whatever, I'll find out soon enough," _was what he really thought.

Tom narrowed his abominable obsidian eyes dangerously before sinking down into his own bed. He had more problems than nosy immature Slytherins. Riddle closed his eyes and a strange hissing noise came out of his mouth, easily now identified as parseltongue.

A thin, sleek, black snake curled out from under his bed out of its hiding place. A dark forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth, ruby eyes glinting with bloodlust.

"_Find the girl. If she dares to tell, you know what to do. Find Hermione Granger," _Tom hissed, never leaving contact with the snake's blood-red eyes.

The snake nodded nearly imperceptibly and slithered off of his emerald green bedcovers, somehow squeezing through the cherry-wood doors and disappearing.

Riddle let all of his muscles relax and prepared for a restless sleep.

**Author's Notes: **I'm sorry that this chapter is a little short. Either way… I have another Harry Potter story that I only update sometimes because of the lack of reviews. It's called 'The Four Elements'. You can: a. Learn from that and review, and/or b. Review that story too. Thank you! Also… would you rather short but updated quickly chapters or long but updated not so fast chapters?


	3. To Glorify or Not To Glorify

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Thank those of you who reviewed!

_Every day is so wonderful_  
_And suddenly it's hard to breathe_  
_Now and then I get insecure_  
_From all the pain, feel so ashamed_  
_I am beautiful no matter what they say_  
_Words can't bring me down_  
_I am beautiful in every single way_  
_Yes, words can't bring me down, oh no_  
_So don't you bring me down today_

_-Beautiful, Christina Aguilera_

Hermione opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains, blinking at the unexpected brightness. She suddenly bolted straight up. What time was it?

The brunette looked around wildly, her messy hair piled on her head like a pigeon's nest. Her eyes landed on the sleeping forms of Lavender and Parvati, and with a relieved sigh, she realized that it was Saturday.

Since there was no reason to stay in bed any longer now from the near electric shock, Hermione dragged herself out of bed and padded to the bathroom, eyes widening at the chicken coop above her head.

"Merlin, Hermione! You need a special Lavender Makeover!" a girly voice trilled loudly behind her. Hermione whirled around and saw a pretty girl with golden brown locks and hazel blue eyes.

"Lavender, I will _not _last through another one of your makeovers!" Hermione stated indignantly, preparing herself for failure. Once you got Lavender going about appearances, there was no stopping her. The last 'fabulous makeover,' as Lavender called it, was a complete disaster of pink.

"_Please?" _the Gryffindor whined. "I can't _bear _for you to go down to breakfast like _that."_

"I –"

"I _promise _that I won't use too much pink this time! _Please, _Hermione?"

Hermione sighed when she saw Lavender's hopeful eyes, wide and filled with faith in her. Really, she needed to tame her heart to be immune to pouting. "Fine…"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I _promise _to make you look absolutely _dashing!" _Lavender squealed and within one second, her one-meter by one-meter makeup kit was out.

"I'm already scared…" Hermione muttered under the breath, feeling ridiculous as Lavender dragged her around the room until she was finally seated in a magenta swivel chair.

The girl smirked. "Come on, you're the friend of the Boy Who Lived. What could be more frightening?" she spun Hermione around and said, "Just relax and enjoy, please," in a professional tone.

Hermione sighed and grabbed a book from the table, reading and acting as if Lavender wasn't behind her. She grudgingly obeyed her 'stylist' when Lavender commanded her to "open your eyes!" and "sit up straighter!"

Parvati had awoken just a couple moments later, much to her luck, and was delighted that Hermione was letting them use her as a guinea pig. With a flip of her sleek black hair, she joined Lavender in critiquing the brunette and left promptly to pick out an outfit.

"Stop acting as if it's your worst day. Think of yourself as lucky. Someday, I'll be a professional, and you'll be proud to say, 'Lavender Brown styled me once! For _free!'"_

Hermione snorted derisively and rolled her eyes. "Of course, Lavender."

"Parvati! We need the clothing now!" Hermione heard Lavender shout after several tugs on her hair and brushes dabbing her face. She flinched at how loud the girl can be, it wouldn't surprise Hermione if Lavender's patronus was some exotic bird. Hermione obediently pulled off her PJs, wearing only her blue cami and underpants. She was used to doing this, it nearly seemed to happen quite often when the two girls styled her. Hermione shivered as the cold air bit her skin, and she shivered ever so slightly

She felt a smooth fabric slip over her shoulders and lightly drift over her frame.

"And… _voila!" _Parvati and Lavender screeched in their enthusiasm. "What do you think, what do you think?"

Hermione peeked an eye open, and then she gasped. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't caked with pink. The next was that she was absolutely _stunning. _

Her brown eyes outlined with gold and her eyelashes were darkened with an eyeliner pencil. There was a soft silver glow on her eyelids, and the area under her brow was darkened to a tan. Her face had a rosy appeal, sleek, healthy, and flawless. She gawked at her hair. It had light waves that caressed over her shoulders, shiny and highlighted to perfection. Her full lips were a light pink.

"It's… beautiful," Hermione whispered breathlessly, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"And your outfit?" Lavender asked eagerly.

Hermione assessed her clothing. She wore tiny white jean shorts to show off her legs and a metallic blue tank top, covered with a black flannel mini-top in which the sleeves went to her mid-arm and flowed out.

"Wow," she murmured. She really didn't know how Lavender and Parvati managed to put all of these different pieces of clothing together, but either way, it was beautiful.

"Will you let us style you more often?" Lavender asked, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"Yeah… maybe…" Hermione breathed, knowing that she was going to regret this later.

"YES!" Lavender and Parvati high-fived each other and rushed into the bathroom to plaster their own faces with makeup.

Hermione shook her head, glancing at her own reflection again before grabbing her book bag and exiting the room. She entered the common room and found it relatively empty, save for a couple of fourth years, sitting on the sofas and chatting. They turned silent at once and stared at her.

She gave them a nod and a modest smile and left for the corridors.

"Hermione!" a voice echoed behind her, footsteps sounding louder and louder against the stone floor.

Hermione pivoted a one-eighty to find Harry running up to catch up with her. She also noted that his green eyes widened when he saw her.

"Hermione…?"

"Lavender and Parvati," Hermione answered, knowing what he was going to ask, and saying the girls' names as if it was an explanation.

"Ah," Harry gave her a knowing smirk. "Either way, you look great."

"Thanks."

"Yep," Harry answered and laughed. "Anyways, I just thought that we could hang out while Ron is still asleep."

Hermione gave Harry a cheshire grin directed toward his directness. "Of course. Perhaps the library–"

"_Please, _Hermione."

"Fine, fine… outside?" Hermione smirked at her friend's helplessness. Every boy feared the wrath of the dear library, was that it?

Harry exhaled in relief. "Thanks." The two best friends strolled towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, stopping suddenly and turning to look at her.

She cocked her head to one side. "Is something wrong?"

"Well… you know… what Ron said before at dinner…" Harry stammered, peering meekly at her expression. It changed dramatically to a pained look. "He didn't mean it, you know that, right? And after this fight is over… everything will be back to normal."

Hermione looked away from Harry's eyes, blinking away tears. "I just feel so tired of Ron," she murmured and began walking again. "He's just so…"

"I know," Harry put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Everyone knows."

Hermione allowed a wan smile to appear on her face. Something red flashed at the corner of her eye, and she pulled to a stop once again.

"Hermione? We're never going to make it to breakfast if–"

"Harry, I just saw something," she cut him off, her expression half curious and half fearful. "Something that flashed red. Like… the color of blood." Hermione shivered involuntarily.

Harry closed his eyes, lines appearing in between his eyebrows as he thought. He abruptly stiffened, his eyelids flying open as a hiss came out of his mouth.

Hermione drew back, backing away slowly as a creature revealed itself. It was a snake, the color of obsidian, and its eyes the color in which she'd choose to relate to animosity.

Her friend began to hiss something, in which she instantly recognized as parseltongue. The snake curled up, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its mouth. Hermione guessed that it was something alike to indecision.

"There's another parseltongue in Hogwarts," Harry murmured faintly into Hermione's ear.

Hermione stared at the snake, her mind working thousands of miles per hour. The only other parseltongue in Hogwarts would be…

Tom Riddle.

Which meant that _he _sent the snake. But why…?

He must want to keep his identity a secret, she figured. Hermione could definitely imagine Professor Dumbledore instructing to do so. And she knew exactly who he was. But Hermione knew that she must tell Harry… yet if the snake attacked…

"It's Tom Riddle, Harry. I saw him last night and–"

There was a flash of black and red, cutting Hermione off as the last word she said broke into a scream. She imagined its fangs sinking into her delicate skin, the first bite to draw blood and the second to inject venom…

Hermione felt neither pain nor any impact of the snake's anger. She turned and saw Harry, holding the snake with his hands, restraining it.

Her scream had echoed through the walls, and all around them, people were gathering around them, watching them with shock.

Of all of the people who came to watch them, Hermione only saw one perfectly carved face: Tom Riddle. He was staring at them with an expressionless glare. No, he was staring at _her _with an expressionless glare.

Hermione gazed straight into his strange eyes, glowering at him. A professor broke her eye contact with the new student, Professor McGonagall aiming her wand at the snake to stop it from moving.

"My goodness… what happened?" the professor whispered, her wand still aimed at the writhing snake.

"I just… we were walking to breakfast when the snake attacked us," Harry answered, his eyes wide and glazed. Hermione followed his line of sight and saw that he was staring straight at the young Voldemort, his hands shaking.

She placed her hands on top of his reassuringly, making him turn to blink at her.

Professor McGonagall caught the look that Harry was giving Riddle and immediately said, "Go! Go back to wherever you were! Shoo!" she waved at the crowd of people.

The crowd dispersed like rabbits, some students just milling around while others left for the Great Hall.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Potter," McGonagall sighed. "Are you both okay?" she asked.

They nodded yes in synchronization.

"I must talk to Professor Dumbledore about this... snake attacks, must be that Slytherin..." the professor muttered crossly. She turned to face the two out of the three people in the Golden Trio. "I want the two of you to be careful, Mr. Weasley as well. Both of you will be asked to answer some questions after lunch in my classroom, is that clear?" The two nodded and watched Professor McGonagall stalk off in her authoritive manner.

Harry spoke as soon as she was out of earshot. "Tom Riddle? _Voldemort?" _he whispered harshly, eyes flickering around as if expecting an attack any second.

"Harry… he's still young. He won't do anything to you–"

"Hermione. A_ snake_ just attacked us_. _Who else would be a parseltongue?" Harry demanded.

"But–"

"We. Just. Got. Attacked. By. A. _Snake," _Harry articulated each syllable.

"Harry," Hermione shook her head. "I met him right after Ron… _shouted… _at me with quite indecent words. Riddle was okay… he's harmless. The snake I can explain: he by accidently told me who he was. He must've realized that he should keep his identity a secret, or Dumbledore told him."

"_Dumbledore _knows?"

"Riddle visited him last night," Hermione said slowly.

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. "But then how can the younger version of Voldemort _be _here, as in physically? What happened to the current version?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm not sure, Harry, but I plan to find out."

"I'm coming with you," he said immediately.

"I don't think that that is a good idea," Hermione answered hesitantly, her eyes watching Harry stiffen. "You'd probably rip him up pretty bad…"

"Hermione, think!" Harry responded, feeling strange that _he _was the one telling _Hermione _to think. "No young Voldemort, no dark Voldemort! Do you know what that means? I wouldn't be the 'Boy Who Lived' or whatever, my parents would be alive, and there would _be no war!" _

Hermione took a deep breath. She knew that he was hopeful... Harry wanted a family. He wanted his parents, and he wanted a life. But she also thought that there were several different methods of time-travel, and this one may not be able to change the past. "Let me deal with this, Harry. Trust me." She looked at him imploringly. To her relief, he reluctantly nodded.

"Fine. Ron's probably up by now. I'm going to visit him. Maybe we can hang out together some other time," Harry said hastily, rushing off with a half-hearted wave.

Hermione watched her friend disappear up the staircase and sighed as she made her way to the Great Hall. She paused. She _really _didn't feel hungry, and despite the fact that she _never _skipped a meal, Hermione didn't want to eat breakfast.

Before she could change her mind, Hermione took a sharp right and exited the castle to the peaceful outdoors.

The drops of water on the green grass that was remaining from last night's rain threw rainbows all over the place, the meadow glowing with colors. The ground sloped down to the equally sparkling water.

Hermione stiffened when she saw a figure sitting under the huge tree, shadowing him from sunlight. Lithely, she made her way towards him.

"What're you doing here?" Hermione asked, building the nerve to sit down next to him. She leaned against the tree, her legs bent before her.

Tom turned his face ever so slightly towards her. "Do you own this tree?"

"No."

"Then I have the right to sit under it," he answered with a smirk.

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Why aren't you inside?"

"Why aren't _you _inside?"

She glared at him. "So far, every question that I've asked you has shown me _nothing _about you," she said cholerically, irritation seeping into her tone.

"Good. Then I'm successful," Tom answered smoothly.

"Why aren't you inside?" Hermione repeated forcefully. "I'm out here because I've decided to skip breakfast and today is a great day. Now it's your turn."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "I never eat in the Great Hall."

"_What?" _

"I never eat in the–"

"I _heard _you! I meant _why? How?" _

"But you asked–"

"I _know_ what I asked!" Hermione smacked him on the arm. "Why. Are. You. So. Annoying?" she asked, hitting him on every word.

Tom smirked, her pitiful hits not even harming him one bit. "I'm merely showing you the flaws in your way of communication."

"So _why _don't you eat in the Great Hall?" Hermione demanded.

"Because I ought to stay away from the girls who drool all over me," Tom answered flatly.

On the outside, he looked genuinely annoyed at only the girls. But with a practiced eye, Hermione saw that he was most definitely hiding something within the depths of his eyes.

Hermione decided that it wasn't best to bring it out. "So are you annoyed at _me?" _

Tom's eyes flickered to her for a second and then he stared out at the jeweled lake. "You ask too many questions, but I find your irritation amusing."

She grunted. After moments of comfortable silence, she said, "I know that you sent that snake after me."

He didn't answer.

"You're a parseltongue too. A boy of Slytherin lineage."

At this, Tom abruptly whipped around to face her, his face unnaturally showing violence and emotion. "How do you know this?" he grabbed a fistful of the collar on her mini-top, yanking it upwards and jutting it to her chin. "_How do you know me?" _

Hermione glared at him wordlessly and waited for his grip to loosen. Slowly, the muscles in his hand relaxed and he let go of her with a jeering look.

"I know you more than you think," she said quietly. "But first, tell me how you came here from the past."

Tom stiffened again as he found out that Hermione knew more about him. "Some spell hit me. I came here," he said bluntly.

"And?"

Reluctantly, he hissed, "My future self disappeared."

Hermione blinked. So Voldemort himself won't be a problem right now. The case was Tom Riddle. "What else?"

"How do you know me?" Tom asked emotionlessly, ignoring the last part of her interrogation. He turned to stare at her with fathomless grey eyes.

Hermione knew that she had two decisions. One was to tell the truth. But the truth was far too dangerous to say.

"My friend tends to have detention with Filch a lot, and he's in the trophy room a lot," Hermione lied, and by the look on the older boy's face, he knew that she was lying too.

"You keep your secrets, I'll keep mine," Hermione said indignantly. She stared at him with challenge clear in her eyes, tension in the air that was like lightening cracking in the air.

Tom didn't answer.

Hermione looked at the book that was lying open on Tom's lap. To break the sudden silence, she asked with real interest, "What are you reading?"

He blinked at her and offered the book to her. Hermione grabbed it and noticed the stanzas that marked that it was a poem. She read it out loud in a flowing voice:

"_Unknown, by _**Anonymous**_." _Hermione paused. The word 'Anonymous' was written in strict bold ink. When she continued, it was written in clear, elegant script.

"_In a place so dark  
So sullen so cold  
Lays Laden  
Intangible, amorphous  
Cold biting the tips of fingers  
To fill thy heart with ice and hear  
The mournful wail of Laden._

_In a place of light  
So docile so warm  
Lays Freedom  
A beam of light, shining through  
Shying away the shadows  
To fill thy heart with fire and hear  
The ringing laughter of Freedom._

_In a place of mystery  
So aloof so unknown  
Lays two of difference  
One of dark and other of light  
To fight with one another  
To be cloaked by mist  
By fog by smoke  
Unknown to one another._

_Why can't one live while the other survives?  
One might ask another.  
Because Laden and Freedom  
Can never coexist  
Lest they love each other."_

Hermione's eyes widened. "This is my absolute _favorite _piece!" she said in surprise, looking at Tom.

He shrugged at her, turning away. He held out his hand for the return of his book. Hermione slapped the book down into his hand, attempting to waver his iron hard arm, but his arm didn't even move from the impact. She watched Tom smirk and walk away.

However much that she loved the poem, she didn't know why the young _Voldemort _would be reading such a thing. She pushed herself up, brushing off some debris before walking absent-mindedly toward the castle.

Hermione found herself wandering towards Professor Dumbledore's office, much to her surprise. She muttered the password under her breath and took herself up the spiral staircase and met the headmaster at the top.

"Ms. Granger! What a surprise," he said pleasantly with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Please do have a seat. Tea?"

"Um… yes please," Hermione looked stunned. Professor Dumbledore will be Professor Dumbledore, always saying that he is surprised while he didn't show any hint of shock.

She watched him move around and gratefully accepted the tea, drinking in the bitter taste in which she had gotten used to.

"What brings you here, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked, sitting on a wooden chair across from her.

"Well… I was outside, and I saw Tom Riddle reading a book. A poem, actually, titled as 'Unknown'," Hermione said with a strangely professional tone.

"Yes, yes, quite an interesting piece, do you not think?" Dumbledore looked quite at ease at the fact that Hermione knew that he was Voldemort.

Hermione shifted slightly. "I must agree, Professor. What worries me isn't what you think. I'm not concerned that he is Voldemort… actually, I _am, _but I'm actually here to ask about what the poem means. It seems to have much meaning, I don't know how to explain."

Dumbledore leaned back. "There is an ancient story that relates to this poem. Would you like to hear it? It's quite long, so if you wouldn't mind me summarizing…"

"Of course, sir."

"This is the story of the First Woman Emperor…"

**Author's Notes: **What'd you think of this chapter? Did you like my poem? Anyhow, please review!


	4. To Die or Not To Die

**Disclaimer: **In case you haven't noticed yet, I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Here's chapter four! I hope you like it. It _is_ a little bit rushed. Tell me what you think of the story.

_You see I never thought that I could walk through fire  
I never thought that I could take a burn  
I never had the strength to take it higher  
Until I reached the point of no return  
And there's just no turning back  
When your heart's under attack  
Gonna give everything I have  
It's my destiny  
I will never say never  
I will fight till forever  
Whenever you knock me down  
I will not stay on the ground…_

_-Justin Bieber feat. Jaden Smith, Never Say Never  
_

_Last Time:_

_Dumbledore leaned back. "There is an ancient story that relates to this poem. Would you like to hear it? It's quite long, so if you wouldn't mind me summarizing…"_

"_Of course, sir." _

"_This is the story of the First Woman Emperor…" _

He brought out a tome book, swirls of dust exploding up. "Two girls and one boy were the best of friends. In fact, the three chose to be brother and sisters under the invisible eyes of God. They were all young and innocent, unknown to what lay before them. The two girls were named Meredith and Nadine, while the boy's name was Ronan."

"The three lived a normal life until the emperor happened to be taking an early stroll around where they lived. By now, the three were young adults; Nadine and Meredith were the most beautiful young maidens of their hometown. The emperor decided to choose the two ladies to be his wives and Ronan to be part of his court."

Hermione blinked. "_Two _wives?" she questioned earnestly, both of her eyebrows raised.

"Back where they lived and at that time, the emperors of the land were allowed to have multiple wives. But in the end, he must choose only one of his wives to crown as queen," Dumbledore said patiently, his blue eyes clear.

The girl nodded for him to go on.

"The emperor eventually fell in love with Meredith. Nadine's heart was filled with jealousy and envy. The formidable man loved Meredith and watched her as if he had never seen the sun before, bathing in her presence. It wasn't just her beauty that the emperor loved, but her compassion, her kind heart, and her altruism."

"Meredith's happiness ended much to quickly for such a sweet and innocent person. Her mother died for an unknown reason: it was most abrupt. Meredith's heart was filled with eternal grief, and she searched and searched for answers of her mother's passing. She found none. Her mother was a kind-hearted soul, and enemies she had not. This was only the beginning of unfortunate events."

"Despite her mourning, life must go on, and soon the time came for the emperor to choose his queen. He chose Meredith without a moment's hesitation."

"Meredith served as the queen with authority and with a clever mind. She fulfilled her duties and never wavered from her position. She spoke with conviction and never chanced weakness by showing her sadness for the death of her mother."

"One day brought a pleasant surprise for the entire country: the emperor and the queen were blessed with a baby girl, born on the stroke of midnight. They named the innocent child Evangeline. They adored the girl, paying the most attention to Evangeline's health and happiness. 'Evangeline was destined for greatness,' they believed. She'd have her mother's kind heart and beauty as well as her father's bravery."

"She might've exceeded all of those expectations if not for a disaster. It was only three days until Evangeline's life ended. The emperor's men immediately scoured for information. What had happened to the royal blooded child? Marks of blood showed that Evangeline was indeed murdered. Further investigation came up with no progress."

"Meredith felt as if her life was cursed. Everything that mattered was literally dying around her… her mother and her daughter, all gone. She was most happy for the presence of her 'brother' and 'sister', Ronan and Nadine."

"Nadine was still especially jealous of Meredith's life. Who could blame her? Meredith had the emperor's personal love, and was chosen for queen. She used to have a very loving mother and had an adorable child. Nadine began to loathe her for what she had. While Meredith had a family, Nadine did not."

"Her hate became more elaborate and she began to take action. She tried to frame Meredith and tried to make her seem like she was faking her kindness. Nadine won the emperor's trust with a couple of crafty words. When Ronan began to look suspicious of Nadine's behavior, Nadine knew that he suspected. She was immediately scared that Ronan would tell on her, and that would send her straight to jail."

"Nadine captured Ronan. No, she did not kill him. She did not want to feel the guilt resulting from murdering her childhood brother, and yet she dreaded that he might tell. So she cut off all of his ways of communication: his tongue, his eyes, his hands, and his feet. He was silenced forever. Ronan eventually suicided by throwing himself off of a cliff: it was no life to live."

Hermione shivered.

"Nadine framed Meredith so that it seemed as if Meredith was the one who killed Ronan. The emperor, thinking that he was foolproof, believed it. He couldn't simply sue his own queen, so he sent her to the countryside. It broke his heart… and Meredith's as well."

"The emperor's advisor, a clever man, suspected that Nadine was behind this. He never believed once that Meredith was guilty. He told the emperor that if he loved Meredith, for Meredith certainly loved him back; he'd bring her back into the palace and wait for more proof that she was guilty. After days of self-conflict, the emperor agreed."

"All the advisor now needed was some proof, and if Nadine was really was the one who caused Ronan so much harm, then it would be on her mind all day. He created a grass man that vaguely represented how Ronan looked. When Nadine went to the temple to pray for forgiveness, as he predicted, she saw the grass man and screamed, believing that it was Ronan's ghost to come back to haunt her."

Dumbledore flipped open to a page near the end of the huge book and began reading:

"_Please, please! I know that I was wrong! Please, please forgive me! Don't kill me!" Nadine screamed, shielding her face with her two quivering hands. _

_The emperor's cunning advisor appeared with a candle in hand, blinking at her with a calculating look. "Miss? Miss?" _

_Outside, the emperor and Meredith's distinct shadows were on the translucent doors: they had reluctantly agreed to watch with an objective eye to see the proof. When the advisor had told them that he suspected Nadine, they had stared at him in absolute astonishment. _

"_Ah, there's my work!" he said artificially. "How'd he get here?" After some silence, he said, "If he were to represent a dead person who deserved to live, who might this resemble, Lady Nadine?" _

_Nadine, staring at him, felt a ripple of a sob flash through her body. He knew. She let her heart's desires pour our, spilling out of her mouth. Nadine hugged the grass doll, tears streaking down her face. "I'm sorry… I know I'm wrong now… please… forgive me… Ronan, I'm so sorry!" _

_The double doors abruptly pushed open, and into the temple were the emperor and his queen. There was dead silence before a trilled scream alarmed through the room._

"_Why did you have to admit it? _Why?" _Meredith screeched, crumbling to the ground as her eyes leaked tears of anguish. _

_Nadine sobbed and whispered in a frail voice, "I was planning to admit it to you. But I just… couldn't. I couldn't, I'm sorry…" She paused, gulping, and looked up at her sworn-sister. "Please… my good sister… if you feel any mercy, kill me now…"_

_Meredith stared at the ground, water continuously flowing down her cheeks._

"_If you kill me, you can gain revenge for Ronan," Nadine said brokenly. "If you kill me, you can gain revenge for… for your daughter."_

_The queen's eyes hardened as she turned slowly to look at her._

"_If you kill me… you can gain revenge… for… for you m-mother," she finished and bent her head down in shame. _

_Meredith's eyes were a slit of pain, her hand clenched into a white fist, shaking. _

Professor Dumbledore flipped forward a couple of pages, saying, "Meredith decided to land Nadine into jail while she thought over what happened and let her emotions flow like a barrage of despair. A week later, Meredith called Nadine to her room."

_Nadine arrived, her demeanor lacking the confidence and authority that it used to have. She walked slowly into the room, and when she was just about to curtsy, Meredith snapped sharply, "Don't show your respect. It isn't what you feel." _

_The sheer curtains drew open to reveal three letters: 'R.I.P'. Nadine's eyes widened with something that was not exactly terror. The letters glowed with the blue light that was trained on the wall. A blank slate of obsidian that resembled a tombstone stood before them. No words were written upon it._

_Meredith lit a candle and set it before the gravestone with an indifferent look on her elegant face. She joined Nadine and said softly, "This stone might bring as the home for my name, or it might be etched as yours. We are probably the only people on this Earth to kneel before their own gravestone and embrace Death with open arms." She knelt down onto the blood-red pillow, Nadine automatically mirroring her._

"_Why?" Nadine whispered hoarsely. "Why might the stone have your name or mine? There is only one person here who deserves to die, and that is me." _

_Meredith looked at her icily. "I will never forgive you for what you have done. But I will not murder you. Then what would set the difference in between you and me? No, I plan to play a bet with you."_

_Nadine stared at her. "I don't understand."_

"_Before you, I have filled two bowls of wine. One bowl has poison in it, and the other is clear. I want you to choose which bowl that you will drink from." _

_Nadine blinked slowly and reached a shaking hand to the bowl that was before her. She leaned back, staring at the clear wine that was reflecting in her clear eyes. Meredith extended an arm and raised the bowl to her lips. _

"_Wait!" Nadine rasped, and when Meredith paused, she lurched forward and grabbed the bowl out of Meredith's hands, some wine spilling out of her unstableness, and swallowed it down. She looked at her own bowl and dunked it down as well._

_Meredith stared at her with bewilder in her eyes. _

"_I regret what I've done," Nadine whispered, looking at Meredith. "I just envied everything that you had. You were pretty, loved, and kind… I felt like the offhand sister who wasn't good enough." _

"_Nadine–"_

"_No, Meredith, listen to me. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could've been that great sister for you." A trickle of blood leaked out of her lips, and she lightly brushed it away, staring at her blood on her fingertips. "Tell me… do you regret becoming my sister?" Another line of red dribbled out: it was near the end._

_Meredith gazed at Nadine with a coded expression. After a moment, she murmured, "No, I do not regret being your sister." _

_Nadine coughed up blood, leaning to one side weakly._

"_I don't regret it because at least for some time, you were loyal and everything I could ask for. Fate was just cruel, taking you away from me because of what I've had and what I've lost."_

_Meredith's heart twisted in pain when Nadine collapsed to the ground, taking in one last shuddering breath and her eyes rolling back into her head._

"_A-and… y-you were there to give me hope," Meredith finished, nearly unable to be heard. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. "My great sister." _

Dumbledore closed the book softly, his sky-blue eyes glistening. When there was grave silence, he spoke first. "There is much more to the beginning and the end of the story. You may read it for the details if you'd like."

Hermione nodded wordlessly, brushing a stray tear out of the corner of her eyes.

"Do you understand, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Um…" Hermione cleared her throat. "No matter how dark a person may be, somewhere deep within them is a heart?"

"Correct. And what might the poem represent then?"

Hermione paused. "If a person has a heart, than they may love as well. If the Dark and Light understood each other, they may actually be able to cooperate and change for the better."

Dumbledore nodded. "Does that solve your problem, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, professor. Thank you," Hermione stood up, acknowledging the headmaster as he led her out.

"And Miss Granger?"  
"Yes, sir?" Hermione turned to face him with a questioning look.

"Tom Riddle isn't horrible," he said pleasantly, a familiar twinkle in his penetrating blue eyes. The golden phoenix began turning before she could manage an intelligent answer to this strange statement.

She left the room and swept through the hallways, walking briskly. The light ahead was getting brighter and brighter, and when she reached the outside, the pillars standing proudly before her, Hermione took a sharp right, only to bump into Tom.

She stared into his eyes and looked away.

"What, I thought that you were quite talkative," Tom smirked, walking past her. Hermione watched Tom's figure disappear as he turned down a different corridor.

"_Tom Riddle isn't horrible," _Dumbledore had said.

She shook her head. Professor Dumbledore will always talk in riddles, and someday, everything will make sense.

**Author's Notes: **What did you think? This story was spun out of China's history and after watching 'The Princess Bride' :)


	5. To Forgive or Not to Forgive

**Disclaimer: **I still never will own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **I have officially decided on what exactly is the plotline for this story; so, chances are leaning towards me not stopping this. (Yay). Please continue to REVIEW!

_This time  
Don't need another perfect line  
Don't care if critics ever jump in line  
I'm gonna give all my secrets away  
Oh, got no reason, got not shame  
Got no family I can blame  
Just don't let me disappear  
I'mma tell you everything  
So tell me what you want to hear  
Something that were like those years  
I'm ick of all the insincere  
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away_

_-OneRepublic, Secrets _

Draco Malfoy sneered quietly to himself. Potter and Granger, attacked by a snake. They just couldn't get enough attention, could they? Too bad the snake didn't swallow them alive. Potter was some special parseltongue, wasn't he?

His lip curled slightly as he made his way down to the Slytherin common room. Stupid Scarhead! That damned thing, son of a–

Malfoy stopped, staring at the package of books on the wooden polished table. He leaned forward and pawed through them. There was a Potions book, Defense textbook… a small leather journal. Or was it some type of a diary? What the hell?

The Prince of Slytherin swiped the small thing off of the pile, looking interested at the damaged state. It was ripped and stabbed at, dark splatters of something alike to ink spreading across the depressed thing. Malfoy flipped it open carefully, staring at the front page.

"Property of Tom…" he read, squinting his silver eyes at the faded words. He made out the 'M' initial for the middle name, and an 'R, D, D' of scattered letters for the last. _"Told you that I'd find out who you were anyways," _Malfoy gloated with a smug expression evident on his face. He made himself comfortable on the sofa, kicking his legs up onto the table and closing his eyes to think. Tom… how many Toms did he know? There was Tom the bartender, Tom some kid across the street, Tom the–

Tom the Dark Lord. 'M'. 'R, D, D'. Tom _M_arvolo _R_i_dd_le. Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap. Merlin help him, he was here with the young version of his master.

Malfoy whipped out a quill and parchment in less than four seconds and quickly scribbled a letter to his father:

_Father_

_Sorry to bother. This is of vital importance. You requested to keep an eye out of things when the Dark Lord disappeared without notifying you. I may have discovered something that will help you. _

_Currently, sleeping in the same dorm in Slytherin is Tom Marvolo Riddle, the young version of the Dark Lord. I sense that he is completely unaware to the fact that he is the Dark Lord in the moment. _

_Is there such an advanced spell to send Riddle whirling in time decades later? What shall I do, Father?_

_Draco _

He quickly scanned through the letter to make sure that he didn't miswrite anything and that there was the right amount of respect in it. Satisfied, Malfoy sealed the letter with the Malfoy crest and let his Eagle owl carry it off in one sweep of its black, magnificent wings.

The door creaked open, much to his annoyance, and it revealed Pansy Parkinson with a flirty look on her face. "Hello, Draco," she said slyly, creeping over to him with that ridiculous smile. She flipped her brown hair over one shoulder and batted her eyelashes at him.

"Go away," he snapped harshly. There was much more things to be worried over than Pansy Parkinson and her obsessions.

Pansy pouted and tried to pull an adorable face, her eyes turning slightly round. "Why do you keep hurting me, Draco?" she purred. "You know that we are meant to be. Both of us are pureblooded, and we rule Slytherin. Anyone else would simply lower you to–"

"Parkinson!" he hissed ominously. "_Go away!" _His silver eyes flashed at her icily.

Pansy sighed and brushed her robes off as if there was some little speck of dust on them. "Of course, Draco. I'll wait for you to call me back later," she said, sashaying out of the common room to leave him with his own thoughts.

Malfoy sighed and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white at her stubbornness. She was lucky. All Pansy had to worry about was if she remained single in her seventh year and if she was going to ever get her little 'Drakie', not to mention if her face looked pretty enough.

Did anyone else Slytherin have a brain?

He contradicted with that thought. Of course. Maybe he should talk to Zabini about the problem with the Dark Lord… but no. That would make him seem desperate and perceptibly weak, and he was certainly _not _going to give Blaise Zabini the pleasure of watching him beg for help.

Draco closed his eyes and kneaded the area right next to his eye, trying to keep himself from getting a severe headache. Damn his father for getting him into this. Damn Potter and his stupid crew. Damn Pansy and her girly girl mind. Damn Blaise and his mocking face (that rhymes!).

Damn whoever dared to cast a spell on the young Dark Lord and sent him all the way _here. _

O

Hermione sat under the same tree in which she sat at early that day. She let the sense of peace rush through her when she closed her eyes, listening to the birds chirping and the steady waves from the water. An occasional breeze caressed her skin, making it tingle ever so slightly.

"Mione?" a voice asked behind her. It was meek. High with pressure. Concerned. Anxious. Most definitely not Riddle.

Hermione turned around to look at Ron and spotted Harry behind him with a firm grip on his friend's arm. _Probably to keep Ron from running, _she thought dryly. "What do you want, _Ronald?" _

Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Mione… I'm really sorry for how I became angry. It's okay for you not to be… you know, interested in quidditch."

Hermione was about to answer when Harry nudged Ron to keep on talking.

"I didn't mean those words I said before," Ron continued, looking at the water instead of Hermione's eyes. "Really… I'm sorry, Mione."

Hermione just stared at him, watching the blood creep up to his face, before turning back and leaning against the tree, hiding under its shadows. "I can forgive you, but I'll _never _forget those words that you said to me." Every word was laced with conviction, pain, and hurt. She quickly brushed away a tear before they could see it, remembering when Ron said that she was worthless.

"I'm… sorry," Ron said shame-facedly, now blinking blankly at the grass. When silence followed and it was apparent that Hermione wasn't going to speak again, he said, "What are we going to do about… the Dark Lord?"

Harry sat down next to his friend, watching her pick at the grass. The two boys waited for their friend, the _intelligent one, _to answer.

"Nothing," Hermione said flatly.

"What?" Ron leapt up, his face already turning red. He gaped openly at Hermione, staring at her. "We can't just–"

Harry kicked his shin to shut him up, reminding him that his forgiveness was still pending. Hermione, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, daring for him to challenge her. "Yes, we can, Ronald" she said coldly. It was obvious that she was reconsidering Ron's apologetic face.

"So we watch Riddle?" Harry asked in a much kinder tone.

She looked into his emerald green eyes, her reflection in his glasses. "Exactly. Make sure he doesn't cause anything to happen."

Ron spoke up quietly, his eyes flickering to Hermione just in case she got up and attacked him. "Er… wouldn't it be easier if we killed–"

"No!" Harry and Hermione hissed at him in synchronization, glowering at him as they teamed up.

"But–"

"Do you challenge my judgment?" Hermione interrupted, staring him down.

Ron got up, his eyes nearly sparking. "You're just taking advantage of my apologizing. It's really annoying, you know, the way you–"

"_Do you challenge my judgment?" _she repeated, standing up as well. "I'm not taking any advantage over _you, _Ronald. I'm _testing _your loyalty. And by the way you _snapped–" _

"Well fine then you can just–"

"That's _it, Weasley," _Hermione growled, dangerously soft. It felt so strange to refer to him by his last name. It felt so… Slytherin. She saw Harry shaking his head in defeat out of the corner of her eyes. She felt bad for him, torn in between his friends.

Ron's eyes had widened when she heard her call him 'Weasley'. A moment of uncertainty lashed through him: had he went too far this time? She had never_, ever, _called him that. Ronald, yes. Weasley, no. "Hermione–"

Hermione brushed past him, running up to the castle. She just couldn't take this anymore! That stupid stinking–

"Weasel got in a fight with you?" Malfoy drawled, sitting on the half-wall. A fresh smirk was on his pale face, and she so wanted to give him a nice smack and watch that smirk go away…

Hermione glared at him relentlessly. "And how many people have _you _fought with, Ferret?"

Malfoy slid down so that he was standing in front of her, putting only a couple of inches in between them. "Wouldn't be so witty if I were you, mudblood. We've had a nice _Riddle _of a surprise," he snarled.

Her brown eyes widened. "_How _do you know about that? Did he tell you?" Her moment of curiosity took over.

"And when did your little head find out, Granger?" Malfoy answered, his stone mask slowly slipping. "And so you know–"

"_You _know?" Hermione shrieked suddenly, blasting his eardrums. Malfoy winced while she continued. "_What did you do, Malfoy?" _

He put a smirk back on his face. "My _father _will know in a couple of minutes," Malfoy sneered. His grey eyes suddenly settled on something behind her, unfocusing before his smirk deepened. "Well, well, mudblood, you've brought reinforcements?"

Hermione whipped around and saw Harry and Ronald – Harry and _Weasley, _behind her. "What. Do. You. _Want?" _she spat at Ro– Weasley. She was well aware of Malfoy's amused expression behind her.

"We heard your screech, Mione, and we thought–" Ron said, looking flustered.

"Well thank you, _Harry, _for your consideration," Hermione turned to Harry before she whirled back around to face Malfoy. "And where are _your _reinforcements?"

Malfoy barked a sharp laugh. "I don't need any to face _you, _Scarhead, and Weasel."

"Mione, I'm _sorry!" _Ron said suddenly, trying to ignore Malfoy.

Hermione grabbed the collar of Malfoy's ironed shirt and blinked back tears before saying softly, "I don't need your apologies, Weasley." She dragged Malfoy, who was struggling against her grip, outside, continuously attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Jeez, Granger, someone is feisty today," Malfoy pulled away from her loosening grip. "Now what do _you _want?" he hissed.

She began pacing. "Do you _want _to get the Dark Mark or something? Because you will now. If you didn't tell your blastedly cruel father about Tom Riddle, then–"

"What makes you think that I don't want the Mark, Granger?" Malfoy interrupted, his eyes flashing coldly at her.

Hermione snarled something under her breath before saying, "_Sure, _Malfoy. You can go and be a slave. Have fun." She whirled around and stalked off, disappearing into the castle.

**Author's Notes: **My apologies, this chapter is really short. It's just a transitional one. Thanks for reading and please review!


	6. To Confirm or Not To Confirm

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'. Hopefully that's clear by now.

**Author's Notes: **I feel like I'm slacking in this story. Guess I'm feeling lazy? Anyhow, please do REVIEW!

_Hush, child, the darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry it down into sleep, child  
The darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry it down into sleep  
Guileless son  
Each day you grow older  
Each moment I'm watching my vengeance unfold  
The child of my body  
The flesh of my soul  
Will die in returning  
The birthright he stole _

_-Heather Dale, Mordred's Lullaby _

Tom entered the silver and green common room, his dark eyes travelling over to the stack of books that were left for him to study. But certain ripped up book stood out like white against black:

His journal.

It was really in a pitiful condition, tattered and ripped… and did it looked as if it were _stabbed? _His jaw clenched together and he debated over this, walking over and brushing it off. How in the world did it land in the hands of the headmaster?

"So, _Riddle," _a voice drawled out behind him. Tom stiffened imperceptibly and slowly pivoted around to see a boy with white-blonde hair and grey eyes. Oh. Malfoy, from his dorm.

Tom stared at the pureblood with a stony gaze, a perfect eyebrow raised. "You'd deem upon to infer that a quantity of students would respect the privacy of others, but in indication of your precedent actions, that simply fails to apply to you."

Both of Malfoy's blonde eyebrows rose in amusement, and with a snort, he replied scathingly, "'You'd deem upon to infer that a quantity of students would speak normally, but in indication of your precedent words, that simply fails to apply to you." His lips twisted into a mocking smirk, and he was repeatedly reminding himself that this was the _Dark Lord _that he was speaking to.

"You seem to be lacking in the department of vocabulary. That seems to explain a lot of your attitude and your behavior," Tom replied nonchalantly, a challenging gleam in his nearly expression-less eyes.

"Oh, lacking in vocabulary my _arse!" _Malfoy snapped, and in one second, his countenance changed into the same indifferent look as the other boy. "In the days that you live in now, you just simply say, 'why the hell were you going through my stuff?', not 'you'd deem upon blah, blah, blah'. But apparently, you usually aren't in the days that you live in now, are you?"

Tom shifted into a position that would easily allow him to defend himself if need be. "Oh? Is that so?"

"You don't need to be acting as if you don't know exactly what I'm talking about," Malfoy smirked. "As Prince of Slytherin, I can read people like a book."

Tom watched him calmly, his eyes betraying nothing. "I know both tactics that you are trying to scheme for, Draco Malfoy. And I must admit, I'm impressed."

"What?"

Tom leaned back against the sofa, casually flipping through the destroyed journal and shaking his head as if he was teaching a five-year-old about things that children simply would never understand. "Your first scheme was that I fall in your more apparent trap: get intimidated by your observant personality. But apparently, I happen to read people just as easily, and I know that you can't find out anything about _me. _Your second plan that was much more complicated is that I deny the fact that you are an observant person, and in the process, admit that I go by the name 'Riddle'."

Malfoy sulked for a moment, irritation easily seeping into his pale aristocratic features. "I know that you are Tom Marvolo Riddle, and believe me, you need my help."

Tom shook his head again, slowly, with a deadly smile that was scarier than his indifferent expression. "I could deny your help and admit that I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, or I can admit helplessness and admit that I am Tom Marvolo Riddle. Has it occurred to you that your mind is not as crafty as it is?"

"You do need my help," Malfoy's lips curled. His silver eyes narrowed into ominous slits, ambivalence clear in his tone: he must hold his reverence for the Dark Lord himself, but this… _boy… _was annoyingly condescending.

Tom watched him with a nearly pleasant look on his face. Of course, pleasant, in Tom's definition, was a mix of no emotion and cold amusement.

"I know your future. I know how powerful you become," Malfoy leaned in, noting how Riddle froze for a millisecond, and he knew that Tom was hooked. "I can give you your flaws and your strengths. You can _prepare _for your future."

"What are you to me?" Tom sneered, a dark look coming across his face. There was a look in his eyes: was it bloodlust? Or was it just the rapacious greed sinking in?

Malfoy couldn't help but fear him: he was, after all, Tom Riddle, soon to be Dark Lord. He was volatile and was easily displeased. And his way of 'disposing of people' was never pleasant. "I was your spy," Malfoy whispered for a more dramatic effect. "You gave me a special assignment… perhaps you have plans for it even now?"

Tom blinked at him, a perilous look darkening his face, somehow making his features more sharp and his eyes glint with his formidable powers. "Do not play the game of anticipation with me, _Malfoy." _

Malfoy nodded slowly. "You told me to…" he leaned in, not daring to speak any louder, "to kill Albus Dumbledore."

"And are you succeeding?" Tom smirked, watching regret and something akin to trepidation change Draco's expression. "I suppose not. The punishment will be severe."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, his silver eyes were nearly aflame. "If I got you your Death Eaters, then will you let me be?"

"The Dark Lord does not leave punishments unpunished, but he does not leave deeds unrewarded. I grant you lenience post you succeed," Riddle's expression distorted ever so slightly as he added on with a sneer, "Bargaining is not tactful in your case, Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy bowed his head slightly. Just moments before, he had the upper hand. How had Riddle become the master so quickly? "I work to finish the Vanishing Cabinet," he rasped, glancing around the room just to check once again if anyone was there.

Tom Riddle's lip curled. "Good," he said, and Malfoy felt better at once. The statement was barely a praise, but coming from that mouth, it definitely was something that you should remember.

Malfoy's silver eyes flickered over to the door, which was opening. Pansy Parkinson and a gaggle of her friends giggled loudly as they strutted into the cold common room, whispering intently. They all froze on the spot when they saw Prince of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, talking with the 'Hot New Kid', Tom.

Pansy immediately seated herself across Draco's lap, murmuring, "Drakie," into his ear and tussling his hair. Malfoy growled under his breath, and took into note for the millionth time that Pansy so very persistent and loyal. No matter how many boys tried to ask her out, she'd turn them down one by one and added a slap after it sometimes just to show her little 'Drakie' how loyal she was.

One pretty girl who had way too much make-up caked on her baby-like face slinked up to Tom, who was flipping through his textbooks. "Hello, Tom," she purred, drawing both words out. She looked back at her friends, whom were all laughing behind their hands: it was evidently a dare.

Riddle barely glanced up to look at her, he just kept skimming through the pages of _Hogwarts, a History, _with an indifferent expression on his face.

"Oh, come _on _Tom, you don't mean to say that the book is pretty that me, do you?" she murmured, drawing circles on his alabaster skin. She leaned towards him, nearly hovering over the book.

Tom smirked but otherwise didn't show any evidence that he had heard her. He didn't acknowledge her presence as she went on with what she called her 'perfected flirty skills'.

"Aw, don't play 'hard to get' with me… What I want, I get," she hissed in his ear, trailing her nails across his neck. Instead of him shivering from contact, as she expected, he turned to face her with impenetrable eyes.

Riddle didn't say anything as he placed the book into the pile, levitating it all into his book bag wordlessly. He seemed unfazed by the amount of attention that the female population was giving him: it must have been something that has happened to him before.

The girl watched, gawking at him like a pathetic fish. _No one _didn't respond to her alluring tricks. _No one_ even _dared _to…

He disappeared into his dorm.

O

Hermione lightly stepped outside, shivering as the chilly air bit her skin. It was nearing fall, and the nights were already getting colder as she pulled her cloak around herself.

She already finished her homework, as always. Hermione didn't even ask Harry or Ron if they finished _theirs_… because the answer would be no. Ron would give her some apology and…

Tears began forming in her eyes. She hated how she had to hurt Ron for hurting her. She hated how when she and Ron fought it would hurt Harry as well. She hated how Harry always chose Ron. She hated how Malfoy was so cocky and arrogant, that blasted git. She hated Tom Riddle and his mysteries.

She hated how she hated so many things.

"_Hate is a powerful emotion, Hermione," _her mother's voice chastised her in her head.

Right now, all she wanted was someone to comfort her: to soothe her and placate her and smooth out her anger. But as if right now… there was no one. The tears leaked out and dropped silently onto the ground.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" a girl's voice resonated from behind her. Hermione suddenly realized her blatant mistake: she still had someone. She was not alone in this miserly world…

"Hermione?" the voice was suddenly very close. "Are you crying? By heavens… what did my brother do now?" Ginny threw her arms around her friend, watching her sob into her shoulder.

"G-Ginny… I feel so bad… I-I…" Hermione barely managed to stammer out of her racking sobs, her chest heaving from every cry.

"What?" Ginny asked, pulling her back. "What happened? What did my brother do? I heard about the incident in the Great Hall from before… he didn't mean it. You are worth a lot, Hermione, and don't let those words from Ron get to you."

Hermione shook her head desperately, her brown hair flying everywhere. "N-no… he a-apologized, but I didn't a-accept… I-I tested him… h-he th-thought that I was using him and… and…"

"He snapped, didn't he," Ginny muttered flatly. It was no question.

"Oh, Gin! I called him 'Weasley' and I… I've never…"

"Mione, don't kill yourself over this. This will smooth over and he'll regret that he's ever said anything. You know us. The redheads with the huge temper," Ginny said comfortingly, brushing her fingers through Hermione's knotted hair. "Come on… my brother is hardly something to cry over."

Hermione gulped down some tears and whispered brokenly, "I just… Harry _always _takes Ron's side and I feel like I'm just…"

"Girlfriend, we got to stick together," Ginny said, pulling Hermione inside the castle. She tugged her into the warm corridors, heat immediately greeting them and bathing them with warmth. "You know Harry. Ron is too… emotional. He needs the help."

Hermione just shook her head slowly. "And I-I don't?"

Ginny tugged Hermione towards the Gryffindor common room. "Your strong, Hermione. You don't need that boost. Once in a while, you might break down, and I'll be here for you. Don't worry."

Hermione pulled to a full stop, folding her arms across her chest. "I should've stayed outside."

"If you had stayed any longer, your tears would've frozen into crystals! Heavens, no, you're coming back to the common room with me," Ginny held a firm grip on her friend's arm.

"No! I-I… don't want to face…"

The redhead shook her head at Hermione's persistence and said, "You'd be admitting defeat if you can't face him. Be strong, Mione. Besides, I'll be on your side if he decides to do anything."

Ginny waited patiently as Hermione contemplated this, chewing her lip slightly before nodding her consent. They entered the common room, Ginny with her head held high and Hermione with a meek look that showed that she was trying to hide.

Ron and Harry just happened to be sitting there, and once they saw Hermione, they both leapt up. It would've been comical if not for the fact that they were in a fight.

"Mione!" Ron said immediately, rushing frantically to stop her from running.

Hermione glowered at him, and in an ice-cold voice that she couldn't even recognize as her own, she sneered, "It's _Hermione, _thanks."

The entire common room was dead silent. No one moved, no one breathed, and a bystander would think that there hearts weren't even beating.

"Hermione… I said I'm sorry! And I really am. I just thought… you know my temper. It's like fire! It's kindled and then it explodes!" Ron said, trying to crack a smile out of his friend. He failed.

Ginny saw that her friend was on the verge of breaking again, so she stepped in. "So sorry, dear brother, but you've destroyed everything permanently," she said with artificial sweetness, sugar topping every syllable. As if the young Weasley just noticed the gaping crowd, listening in on everything word, she turned to face them with a death glare. Ginny looked so much like her angry mother that they all turned away hastily.

Hermione gripped Ginny's arm and dove for the girls' dorms, knocking Ron's restraining arm away, taking advantage of the fact that he was unaware, and slammed the door behind her.

Ron turned to stare at Harry, his jaw hanging open as if a gutted fish. "Harry. What am I supposed to do?"

Harry's wistful emerald eyes just trailed over to where Hermione and Ginny had disappeared. "I don't know. But I miss Hermione. And we're all going to miss Ginny soon by look of it. You have to fix this yourself, Ron."

**Author's Notes: **Sooo… what do you think? Do you want to know what I'm thinking? _Drama…! _Anyhow, I _am _watching you people, the people who put me on their story alerts and favorite lists, and I'm wondering why you simply don't click that blue, underlined button right under this that says 'Review this Chapter'. _Please, people, review! _


	7. To Believe or Not To Believe

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Gah! I apologize for not updating sooner! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But perhaps I need a tad bit of _encouragement, _and _reviewing _would certainly help.

To vswimming12: I must admit, I like you. Really, the review button is the _right there. _

To anonymous reviewers: since you signed as 'anonymous', I can't PM you. I just thought that you'd like to know that I always write 'Thank you for reviewing!' to everyone who does. And, as always, REVIEW!

_Let us die young or let us live forever  
We don't have the power, but we never say never  
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip  
The music's for the sad man  
Forever young, I wanna be forever young  
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?  
Forever young, I wanna be forever young  
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?_

_-Jay-Z, Young Forever _

Hermione entered the common room to find Ginny sitting comfortably on the sofa with her legs propped up beside her. She grinned when Hermione entered, and was awarded with a grateful smile.

"Morning," Hermione greeted.

The redhead was beside her in a mere second. "Morning." Ginny answered, linking her arms with hers and leaving for the bright corridors. They climbed out of the portrait hole, blinking spastically when the sun's bright light streamed through the windows and blinded them.

"So… I'm guessing that you're not going to let me be alone for a second of my life?" Hermione asked. Her brown eyes sparkled, lightened by the sun, last night's hurt temporarily pushed back.

Ginny threw her flaming hair back, laughing slightly as she answered, "Ah… Hermione, I really would tie you down so that you don't have to meet that git that I am ashamed to call brother, but I _do _have my eyes set on a certain boy and I–"

Hermione smirked at this. "And who might this lucky boy be?"

"Eh…"

"Oh, come on Ginny. Someone has to keep track of your crushes…"

Ginny watched her carefully. She knew that Hermione was just trying to distract herself from Ron and Harry. "Well… don't be mad…"

"It's a Slytherin, isn't it," Hermione raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. It wasn't even a question, easily answered by Ginny's blush. "Ah…"

Ginny smiled weakly, her face burning. "Yeah…"

"Who?"

"Er… Blaise Zabini." Ginny ducked reflexively from Hermione's playful swat, already knowing what Hermione's reaction would be. She also knew that Hermione wouldn't judge her right now: Hermione wouldn't want to be a hypocrite and act like Ron.

"Good luck then," Hermione said, a genuine look on her face. "Though if he does anything–"

"Yes, yes, you'll hex him into the next century."

"I actually was going to hex him into oblivion, but the next century works just as well," Hermione smirked. On normal circumstances, she would've given Gin a huge lecture on dating the slimy snakes of Slytherin, but in this case… Hermione felt like being… _spontaneous. _Living free.

The sound of rapid footsteps interrupted whatever that was about to tumble out of Ginny's mouth, and a disheveled Harry greeted them. "Gin… Mione," he panted. He put his hands on his knees and took a breather.

Ginny put her hands on her hips, her flaming red hair swinging from side-to-side in a 'what do you want now' type of look. Hermione glanced at her friend before turning to Harry. "Harry," she deadpanned.

Harry's emerald eyes glanced back and forth in between the girls, appraising their attitude. "Er… could I speak to Mione in private?" he asked, a look that could only be described as meek appearing on his surprised and exhausted face.

The youngest Weasley glanced at Hermione before nodding slowly. "You better watch what you say," she warned, fingering her wand.

"Yes, yes. I'm not Ron, Gin."

Ginny nodded sharply before turning a one-eighty, saying over her shoulder, "See you later, Mione," before leaving them standing there awkwardly.

"Mione… before you say anything, this isn't about Ron. I'm leaving that up to him to apologize. You're not mad at me, are you?" Harry asked, shifting from one leg to another with a miniscule look of hope in his eyes.

Hermione's own brown orbs flickered up to him before she sighed and said, "No, I'm not mad at you. Not particularly."

Harry blinked in relief and let out a breath that he wasn't aware that he was holding. "Anyways… Professor Dumbledore called me into his office today. Remember the Horcruxes?"

Hermione immediately paid rapt attention at what he was saying. "Yes… how would I forget?"

"Well… since Volde– _Tom Riddle_ is here right now, Dumbledore supposes that the other objects that serve as the Horcruxes' host body are not tainted by Riddle's soul. We can delay our search for Horcruxes. On the other hand… Professor Slughorn isn't quite comfortable," Harry rushed out. It was apparent that he hadn't got much of a reaction out of Ron, and he needed Hermione to illuminate him with some answers.

Hermione cocked her head to one side. "Professor Dumbledore is probably right about the Horcruxes. The future self disappears when the past one comes. As for Professor Slughorn… he's bound to feel uncomfortable around Riddle. What do you expect to happen?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head vigorously. "Truthfully, Mione, I think that Riddle is up to something. Just something about the way the Slytherins immediately seem to sense that he's Voldemort…"

"He told?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "I really can't be sure. This is all mind wracking. I can't seem to find things out! My scar has been burning for days after Riddle arrived. I just… have that feeling in my gut that something's going to happen."

"Did you dream?"

"Well… no…"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and huffed, squeezing her eyes shut in deep thought. Tom seemed thoroughly set upon keeping his identity a secret. When Hermione was about to tell Harry, he set the snake upon her. He always acted so surreptitious about himself… But perhaps he only wanted to tell this to _specific _people. Like the Slytherins, for instance, for they all seem to act as if he was their Lord…

"This has to do with Malfoy being a Death Eater. Remember how I told you that in the beginning of the year?" Harry pushed, wrenching Hermione away from her trail of thought that was dangerously close to the truth.

She opened her eyes to stare into his. "I told you before: Malfoy is _not _a Death Eater. It doesn't seem probable," Hermione contradicted half-heartedly. But she remembered her conversation with him clearly:

"_What makes you think I don't want the Mark, Granger?" _Malfoy had said.

What if he already had the Mark?

As she debated this, Harry wrung his hands out at her persistence. "Why do you support that? It would make everything make sense. Malfoy is trying to get the other Death Eaters into the castle to his _Lord! _Then they all attack…" he trailed off, fear flashing briefly in his eyes before he focused again, renewed determination showing in his stance. "And we fight. The Final Battle is coming, Mione, I _know _it!"

"Harry!"

"No, _listen! _It would make _everything _crystal clear. It would make Tom Riddle stronger than ever to be in his own human form and–"

"And he fights without his Horcruxes?" Hermione cut him off, grabbing his arm firmly to make him look at her. "He wouldn't risk his life like that. Especially since he is still so young. If your theory is true, then I would have no doubt that he knows his accomplishments, thanks to Malfoy."

Harry smiled mischievously. "So you admit that you think that Malfoy is a Death Eater?"

Hermione glowered at him for making her fall into his carefully laid trap, hurting her ego as if she was a rabbit who just got snared in wire. Or perhaps like a deer right in front of a spotlight.

"Just admit it, he–"

"Oi, Harry!" a loud voice cut off Harry's smug remark, a red-haired figure appearing around the corner. The sun reflected off of the person's hair, making an illusion that the corridors were aflame.

Hermione immediately stiffened. That… that voice. That stupid git. That slimy mongrel. That–

"Mione?" the person froze, hands held up in surrender as he approached her slowly. Harry watched her with a look rivaling a hawk's, cautioning her and attempting to calm her with a restraining and soothing hand on her shoulder.

When she didn't answer, Ron began to advance faster, slowly straightening out of his carefully stooped position. "Mione, listen. I'm really sor–"

"I don't _want _your apology!" Hermione rasped, her throat constricting as she already began backing away. Ron immediately froze to keep her from backing away more.

Ron peered at her, his eyebrows furrowing. "What _do _you want?" he asked, not harshly, but in a coaxing way.

"I want a friend! Someone who can be loyal and think of me as someone who has more worth than some _dirt!" _Hermione sobbed, her voice cracking as she backed up some more.

"I… I didn't mean that. I… I promise to be a better friend. I'm sor–"

Hermione shook her head, placing both hands around her ears to muffle the sound of what seemed to be his genuinely sorry voice. When he stopped talking, she placed her arms around herself. "Ronald, how many times have we fought? Over and over…"

Ron walked towards her, arms extended. "_Please, _Mione…"

Her eyes' widened. Fight or flight, she decided. And being who she was…

Hermione chose flight.

She whipped around and ran. She wanted to run away from all of Ron's pleas of forgiveness, to run away from his biting words, run away from Voldemort, run away from everything and everyone…

Normally, she would've forgiven him by now. The Hermione in fifth year wouldn't hold a grudge and would keep away from arguments as well as she could. But this Hermione couldn't take it anymore. After years of building up her anger, she finally spilled it all out in this one incident.

A cold laugh echoed from her mouth. When it reached her ears, she didn't recognize it. She found it amusing, which certainly damaged her sanity, that this all started with a disagreement on quidditch.

Hermione leaned against the cold wall, sliding down to the ground in defeat. She felt Ginny's comforting arms around her, pushing for details, but Hermione only heard a distant buzz. A manic laugh was the only response she gave her concerned friend.

"What's wrong with Granger?" a cold drawl asked distantly.

"I… _really don't know. _I think she's gone insane…" Ginny poked at her, trying to knock some sense into her normally calm and intelligent friend.

"Now really."

Ginny gave him a glare that put her own mother to shame. "Shut your trap, Malfoy, I don't give crap about what you think."

"Now really?" Malfoy smirked. Ginny did, however, catch that uneasy look when he stared at the insane Hermione Jean Granger, spasms of laughter spilling out of her mouth.

"Gin?" Hermione asked, her manic burst finally ending as she glanced in between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor.

Ginny looked relieved, hoisting her friend to her feet. "You okay? Now I was really afraid and concerned back then…"

"I feel _giddy," _Hermione cocked her head to one side. "Strange. Kind of happy. Did I swallow Felix Felicis or something?"

"Um…"

"It's weird. I feel free. As I said, happy. But it's a bit odd. Like it was induced by some drug…"

Ginny's eyes widened helplessly. "Er…"

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, ten points from–"

"Oh, why hello there Malfoy! I didn't see you there. How are you doing?" Hermione blinked innocently at him.

Ginny sputtered wordlessly while Malfoy's jaw dropped, his blonde eyebrows raised. In one second, Draco snapped his expression back together, a trait that he possessed from the long lines of Malfoys.

"Quite fine," Malfoy smirked. A look crossed his face.

Ginny shuddered. "Now before you do something…"

"Look at her," Malfoy pointed to the strange, possessed version of Hermione. "She'd agree to anything. Watch and learn, Weaslette." He turned to the female member of the Golden Trio. "Will you go to Hogsmeade with me in one month, mudblood?"

"Okay!" Hermione answered, exploding into a fit of giggles. "But I don't like you to call me that name, it's unpleasant."

Ginny boggled at her with huge eyes. "Er… I think I'd rather her sad than this, it's quite frightening…"

"Oh, I'm actually looking forward to this. Double-period Potions is bound to be amusing…"

"Shut it, Malfoy. Hermione? Calm yourself. You must accept that you are independent and you don't need Ron and–"

The moment Ron's name slipped from Ginny's lips was the moment Hermione was sobered from her giddiness. Her face dramatically changed from a manic grin to a broken look of defeat.

Malfoy shook his head. "Quite a pity, ruining my fun, Weaslette. You really are cruel," he smirked, putting on a sarcastic and over-exaggerated look of sorrow. He turned around in his own aristocratic way and stalked off, muttering something under his breath and taking a sharp turn.

Hermione exhaled, taking deep breaths to calm herself and stop the flow of tears. Ginny looked at her anxiously. "You okay now?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah," Hermione whispered, staring out the glassless windows. When Ginny followed her gaze, she found the figure of Tom Marvolo Riddle standing outside in a black cloak.

She was vaguely aware of Ginny asking if she was crushing on the young Dark Lord, but what she really thought was:

"_In that cloak, Riddle looks nothing less than a Death Eater. The leader of the Death Eaters." _

**Author's Notes: **Sooo… what did you think? This is kind of the turning point… I guess it leads to my dark plot. I mean dark as in not too dark. This story is rated T, as shown, and so there will be no sexually graphic scenes. Heavens above, I'm twelve years old. But I'm just warning you that it _will _turn darker. Now peoples, click that button right under this…


	8. To Scream or Not To Scream

**Disclaimer: **No really, I don't own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **All right now this is the hardest part for me to write, and it isn't my favorite chapter at all. I'm horrible at transitions, so just bear with me. As for Hogsmeade… I think I may cut that scene when Draco and Hermione go there together, sorry!

To vswimming12, EYESviolet, and sweet-tang-honney: This chapter is for you three, who literally reviewed every single chapter so far. The Snape is for you, EYESviolet dear.

To other people: if you have already reviewed, I would appreciate it if you reviewed some other chapters, because this story is going to change. And if you haven't reviewed… do you like this story? _Please review. _

_So if its just tonight  
The animal inside  
Let it live and die  
Like it's the end of time  
Like everything inside  
Let it live and die  
This is our last chance  
Give me your hands  
Cause our world is spinning at the speed of light  
The night is fading  
Heart is racing  
Now just come and love me like we're gonna die_

_-Ke$ha, Animal_

Draco opened the translucent window to reveal his owl, finally back and looking plaintively exhausted. He let the poor creature in, wincing at the blast of bitter cold that accompanied this, and threw it some food before snatching the roll of parchment with the Malfoy seal placed in plain sight.

_Draco_

_I must admit that I was most appalled when this information was delivered. The Dark Lord staying at Hogwarts as a student from the past has the most significance and priority. This will benefit the Dark as well as create a disadvantage. _

_You must fix the Vanishing Cabinet as soon as possible. That is an order, Draco. We will be waiting for you on the same date as planned at midnight. Bring the Dark Lord there, and then we discuss his former plans with him. You must assure that the news does not spread that the Dark Lord is being housed in Hogwarts. My guess is that Potter and his minions already know, for Dumbledore must be able to identify the Lord easily. _

_There is an advanced time spell that probably hit the Dark Lord to send him to present time. The incantation is: 'prodeo in vicis, is est non a vitium'. It means: 'go forward in time, it is not a crime,' and is properly known as the 'Tempus Fugit', or translated into English as 'Time Flies'. The counter spell to send a person back is very complicated, and if failed, can have dangerous effects that no one is willing to take. _

_Currently, I am away. Upon this discovery of yours, I will be back at the Manor today and will be holding a meeting tomorrow. You must succeed, Draco. Failure is not an option._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco's lip curled involuntarily. _'Failure is not an option'. _How encouraging of his dear father. His silver eyes sparked for a moment before he reined control over his emotions, grabbing a quill that was just lying around. Quickly, he scribbled:

_Father_

_I will try my best. _

_Potty and his little trio are in some argument. Divide and conquer, I assume? Granger knows already. She might be a dangerous opponent with her potential. Potty and Weasel are too thick-headed to find out what's going on. As a matter of fact, the mudblood was always the one who had the ideas. _

_The Dark Lord is aware of whom he is now. I have informed him of his plans. _

_The Vanishing Cabinet is almost completely fixed. I will meet your time requirement, Father. This letter is enchanted to appear like a newspaper to any nosy eavesdroppers who might intercept this owl. _

_I won't disappoint. _

_Draco _

Snarling under his breath as he read over his rather respectful letter, Malfoy glanced at his owl. Its poor feathers were strewn all over the place: he was probably thrown into a gust of wind. Deciding to show mercy on his precious owl, he left for the Owlery, taking the longer way to avoid the gaggling pack of girls that almost spied him.

O

Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand reassuringly before leaving her friend right outside the spacious DADA room. Hermione watched Ginny skip away, her red hair swinging from side to side as she went. She sighed, pushing her way into the room and setting her books down, sitting with her back ramrod straight.

Other students filed in slowly, muttering under their breaths to others while others laughed out loud with no shame. Hermione's back was even straighter, if possible, when Malfoy sat down next to her. It was really unfortunate that Professor Snape decided to be ever so kind and seat her with that _ferret. _

"It's really kind of you to sit with such posture to greet me, Granger," Malfoy smirked.

When Hermione turned slowly to face him, she noted that there were dark circles under his eyes. Was he losing sleep over the topic of Tom Riddle? "It really would be kind of me, but it's too bad that my posture does not concern you or your presence."

"And who might you be gracing your politeness to, then? Longbottom?" Malfoy turned around to stare at the pudgy boy, giving him a hard silver mocking leer.

Poor Neville flushed ten shades of red, hastily pulling out his books with shaking hands.

Hermione let out a flat laugh. "Neville deserves it much more than you do, Ferret, but no. I thought you'd know all about doing things for yourself, being as selfish as you are."

"Me? Selfish? You've scarred me, mudblood." Malfoy sat back in his seat, twirling his quill in his hand. Before the Gryffindor could reply with a witty comment, Professor Snape stalked into the class, slamming the door behind him, affectively making everyone shut up.

Without a word, he walked up to his large wooden desk, flicking his wand to the board strictly. The instructions wrote itself out immediately.

"Wordless magic," Snape said, looking down at them with his cold obsidian eyes. "Why is it an advantage?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air, though she didn't look as eager as she usually did. She was never eager when answering a question for Snape– last time, he deducted House points because he thought of her as an _'insufferable know-it-all'. _

"No one? How disappointing," the professor said oily, his eyes daring someone to raise their hand. He looked at the Slytherin side of the classroom, and from their embarrassed expressions, he knew that they did not know the answer. A movement in the back of the room caught his eye eventually. "Ah, yes. Tom?" Snape caught himself before he would say 'Mr. Riddle' and let the entire classroom know that Voldemort was the handsome lad that every girl lusted for.

The entire student body turned around noisily in their desks to look at him. Tom looked unperturbed at how many eyes were trained on him as he said smoothly, "Your opponent would not be able to detect or determine the potency of the spell, sir."

Snape gave him a rare thin-lipped smile. It, in fact, made him looked much more scary and demeaning then before. "Correct, Tom. Ten points to Slytherin. And because you are as a new student here, I grant you five more points to Slytherin."

The Gryffindors groaned, glaring with animosity at the newest addition to their class. Malfoy smirked at Hermione's glowering expression, knowing fully well that she wanted to answer that question.

"Open your books to page 125 for details on wordless magic. Then, you may practice with your designated partner. Tom, you may join Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger over here," Snape smirked, looking directly at Hermione, before he turned around to sit at his desk. From the back, he really did look like an oversized hawk.

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to burn holes into the Defense teacher's back with her glare, focusing on that until Tom Riddle pulled up a chair and sat down gracefully.

"He's cruel, you know that?" Hermione muttered under her breath before flipping the pages of the book violently.

"Merlin, Granger, you'd think that you could treat a book with more respect with all the time you spend with them," Malfoy sneered. His grey orbs flickered to Riddle, who was watching her curiously.

Tom scanned the contents of the page in seconds. He stayed silent, his presence already creating tension as he patiently waited for the other two to finish reading.

"_I'll _go first," Hermione said, pulling out her wand and aiming it at Malfoy.

Malfoy paled ever so slightly before answering mockingly, "Of course, ladies first." He prepared himself to fend off a vicious attack.

Hermione closed her eyes, seemingly in deep thought, before raising her wand to be pointed at her enemy's heart (if he had one, of course). After a couple of seconds of concentrating, a jet of blue light erupted from her wand, shooting at Draco at 100 kilometers per hour. Somehow, probably due to his fast Seeker reflexes, Draco blocked the attack, saving himself a trip to the Hospital Wing.

Everyone didn't seem perturbed that Hermione had finished first. It was expected of her. However, the Gryffindors all _did _sneak a peek at Professor Snape, who _happened _not to be watching her.

"_Biased, mean, cruel, in desperate need of conditioner and lotion…" _Hermione thought, watching the man flip a page in the book that he was reading ever so 'innocently'. _"Goodness, I must be spending too much time with Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny. I haven't given a thought to hair products except for my own. But I will admit, that professor is in need of a Lavender make-over…" _An evil smile pulled at her lips at that thought.

Malfoy went next, choosing Hermione to be his victim (she rolled her eyes at this). "Ready, m'lady?" he leered with raised eyebrows.

She just cocked her head to one side in acknowledgement. When he raised his wand at her, just a wisp of blue came out. Hermione smirked victoriously. Malfoy was in second again.

The second try was successful, but the look of loathing on the Slytherin's face was unmistakable as he bared his teeth at her.

It wasn't until Tom spoke did she remember her third and very dangerous partner. After gaining their attention, he pointed his wand nearly lazily at her. A jet of light shot out immediately, and it was all she could do to block it.

The look on Granger's face was priceless. It was a look of complete disbelief that he did better than she did.

O

Malfoy let the fresh scroll of parchment drop into his pale hands at the Great Hall. The huge room was bright with gold and silver, the roof above a beautiful shade of bronze to impersonate a sunset. Looking around, he lithely stood and walked over the bench and left for a dark corridor.

"_Lumos," _he pointed his wand to the paper, drifting the light over his father's strict script.

_Draco_

_Now, now, even purebloods must treat the lowest ranks with respect. At least until the time comes. Miss Granger may be useful to the Dark Lord: I will propose that we capture her. _

_Your enchantment on your past letter was not needed, but I suppose the caution could be praised for. _

_Upon my return, the other Death Eaters have decided to contact me immediately instead of wait until tomorrow. Be ready tonight. Midnight, as planned. _

_Succeed, Draco._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco wanted to send his father a Howler. He was sure that it would go a little something like this:

_Father…_

_THE HELL WITH RESPECTING THE LOWER RANKS! I'M GOING AROUND TO KISS THEIR MUDDY ARSES! _

_My enchantment was intelligent. Admit it. _

_TONIGHT? WHAT THE… __**TONIGHT? WHAT? MIDNIGHT? AS PLANNED? WE DID NOT PLAN FOR TONIGHT…! **_

_DAMN HOW MANY TIMES DO YOU WANT TO TELL ME: OH, DRACO, SUCCEED, FAILURE ISN'T AN OPTION… WELL GO TO HELL OR STICK YOUR OLD FACE INTO A PUDDLE AND NEVER COME OUT!_

…

_Draco_

But he really wasn't willing to take that risk and send a Howler with a bunch of curses strung into it, because the day he disrespected his father would be the day his mother picked out his funeral flowers.

O

Hermione looked around. There was no sign of Harry. He had hastily told her that Dumbledore had summoned him for some urgent reason concerning Horcruxes and how if they collected the items now, it would be easier to destroy them when Voldemort's soul returned to the objects.

The sky was rapidly darkening, and, much unlike the usual, there were no merry stars twinkling about and winking slyly at the humans on Earth.

Fear immediately struck into her heart with a jolt when she heard an ear-piercing scream that shattered every mirror in England. Adrenaline pulsing threw her veins, she whipped out her wand on pure instinct and dashed towards the person who had sent an alarm. What she saw outside made her freeze. It couldn't be today. It was much to early. It couldn't be…

The glowing dark mark was strung menacingly across the sky.

**Author's Notes: **Oooo… danger! Now… if you readers would kindly press the ever so pretty blue button down there, I will update _as soon as possible _and reveal to you my evil plan. Actually, it pretty much is already revealed, but still… review?


	9. To Trust or Not To Trust

**Disclaimer: **I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror. I still don't look like J.K. Rowling…

**Author's Notes: **… How many ways are there to say: _please review? _Please leave a comment? Leave a note? _Ahem. _**Please, please, please, please, please, please review. **_Por favor? __S'il vous plaît?_ Or else I might lose my sanity. And _that, _my friend, would not be good, now would it? I'm keeping an eye on you people who put this story on story alert and favorites. Thank you four people who reviewed last chapter!

_Falling out of love is hard  
Falling for betrayal is worse  
Broken trust and broken hearts  
I know, I know  
Thinking all you need is there  
Building faith on love and words  
Empty promises will wear  
I know, I know_

_-Shontelle, Impossible _

It was there, dark and eerie, mocking them from the sky. The glowing green serpent snaked it's way out of the skull, hovering over them as if encasing them. As if they were already conquered. As if they were all captured and were prisoners.

Hermione tried to will her body to move, to run, to do _something. _But her body wouldn't cooperate. Her muscles had all shut down. Every nerve in her body felt disconnected, as if the information just wasn't going through. Her body refused to respond.

"_Am I going into some weird type of coma?" _

A gasp behind her drove her into action. Hermione whirled around to see a terrified first year, cowering into his own shadow as he stared at the sky. His eyes betrayed the horrified emotions that he felt: as if he had stepped straight into a nightmare. Hermione bent down slowly.

"Come. We must go to the common room and wait for instructions from Professor McGonagall," she tried to soothe the young boy. He was trembling from head to toe, shaking in his fear.

He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes with as much courage and bravery as he could. He nodded, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him along quickly towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione smiled slightly at the boy's unwavering pride and chivalry. She respected this boy… his blood was purely Gryffindor blood.

They appeared into the red and gold common room, where Professor McGonagall was shouting at the chaotic students in the room. Students screamed at each other, paranoia apparent in every eye. The boy who had grabbed Hermione's hand scurried off to his friends after thanking her nearly inaudibly.

"STUDENTS! GODRIC GRYFFINDOR'S SAKE, _QUIET DOWN!" _Hermione heard her favorite professor hollering at the top of her lungs. Professor McGonagall looked thoroughly flustered, looking completely exhausted with a look that showed her irritation that was seeping through.

The students all immediately froze in place, all turning to look at the Head of Gryffindor. You would probably be able to hear even a butterfly's wings at how silent the room was. It looked like someone had pushed a 'pause' button on a television set.

"Good," Professor McGonagall said, surprised at how drastically the atmosphere of the room changed. At her one word, the students released the breath that apparently many people didn't know that they were holding in. Hermione crept into the boys' dormitories, slinking into Harry's dorm, and lithely tip-toed over to his bed. She could hear Professor McGonagall lecturing the students on the protocol when in this situation, her strict tone echoing through the entire common room.

Hermione knew that Harry was out somewhere with Dumbledore, and that he'd be back sometime. She had a feeling in her gut that she should pack some things for him…

She summoned a bag quickly and folded the invisibility cloak into it, stuffing the three-quarters full of the tiny vial of Felix Felicis into the bag and throwing in a minimized version of a book of _Advanced Spells, Hexes, Curses, Charms, and Wards._She paused slightly, and added some food, the Marauder Map, and several Galleons to the mix.

When Hermione finally decided to pack something for herself, she heard footsteps coming towards the room. She hastily grabbed a random potion that was sitting on the desk and a couple of Galleons.

"Oi!" was Seamus' voice in the doorway.

Hermione whirled around to stare at the Irish boy in the eye. "Oh, hey, Seamus! I'm just getting some stuff that Harry owes me," she said innocently. She mentally thanked her parents for making her take acting classes when she was just a child.

"Oh, alright," Seamus said, easily believing the female member of the Golden Trio. He grabbed his cloak and the two left for the common room.

"… Prefects, please lead the way to the Centre Courtyard," Professor McGonagall was instructing, just in time for Hermione to hear. Hermione immediately made her way up to the front, flinching when she saw Ron. She turned away slightly, and she felt a slightly pressure on her arm.

"It's okay, Hermione," Ginny's warm voice said.

Hermione smiled wordlessly at her friend's support, and she handed the bag to Ginny. "Give this to Harry," she whispered in a low voice so that only the red-haired girl could hear.

Ginny's eyes betrayed her moment of fear at this, and then she composed herself and nodded, holding the bag to her heart.

Hermione walked forward, unable to look at Ron in the eye, scared that when she saw the imploring look in his eyes that she would give in and burst into tears. She brushed right by him, choking back a sob, and led the student out into the corridors at a brisk pace. In her peripheral vision, she saw a flash of pain in Ron's eyes. Hermione felt a lump in the back of her throat.

The Gryffindors shuffled down the hall in an almost docile-like fashion. Even the worst troublemaker was scared into silence, eye flickering around and watching every shadow in case something moved.

Hermione walked down the stone steps to the Centre Courtyard with trepidation: the other Houses were all there, gathered around and shivering in night's bitter air. Silence cloaked the entire castle, and for the first time, Hogwarts lacked in the warmth that it used to house.

A screech pierced their ears just moments later, ringing loudly across the grounds. It wasn't just a screech: it was a cackle. It represented the cruelest sound in the world, laughing for the worst cause… Filled with triumph, insane triumph, for loss of something great…

_Bellatrix. _

It had to be her. Bellatrix Lestrange, Death Eater, the most insane and bloodthirsty person in the entire world, was here, in Hogwarts, the haven for hundreds of students each year. A haven no longer.

One gasp punctuated the end of this manic laugh. One solitary student pointed to the Astronomy Tower, the tower known as the highest and the peak point of the school. One figure, robes flailing and whipping around in the wind, silver trailing after the body, falling and being pulled down by gravity. Falling from the Astronomy Tower.

_Dumbledore. _

The most powerful wizard of all time, the only one who might live a duel against Lord Voldemort…

Was now dead.

Hermione closed her eyes, faithlessness and loss of hope washing all over her. Where could she find hope when the impossible had been conquered? In one night, one fateful night, the Death Eaters had pushed away the leader of the Light and grabbed Hogwarts. She backed out into the outer rim of the circle of astonished and bewildered students.

There was a resounding shatter, followed by more and more sounds of glass cracking as Bellatrix ran across the Great Hall's tables, storming across the plate and throwing silverware all over the place. With another scream, she threw her arms out, the glass from the windows exploding all around, the light dimming in the enchanted ceiling. Her untamed black hair whipped around her wildly, giving her a look of a feral animal.

Professor Dumbledore was dead, Snape was a traitor, Malfoy was inevitably with the dark, and Tom Riddle was soon to be known as Lord Voldemort once again. It was all too much–

Hermione felt an arm snake around her waist and pull her back, a hand clamping down on her mouth. She struggled against the person, kicking and flailing and trying to scream… but she found that she couldn't. The person had planned ahead and aimed a _'Silencio' _at her before letting her know of their presence. The crowd of students ahead did not notice her absence… and they were getting farther and farther away.

When the Gryffindor refused to stop struggling against the person' grip, she felt the arm leave her mouth and a wand point at her throat. She immediately froze.

"Now, now, my sweet," Fenrir Greyback purred, his breath tickling her skin. "You better stop fighting now, Gryffindor lioness. The Lord has requested for you, and feel grateful that he was feeling possessive and didn't allow for me to take a little bite of your sweet skin…"

Hermione shuddered and began trembling in her fear. Oh why, oh why did she have to back out of the mass of students? She may have been safe right now… She wouldn't be in the hands of a cruel werewolf…

But her Gryffindor Pride would not let her back down without a fight. Greyback or not, she will not be frightened into obligation. She will not helpfully prance into the realm of Voldemort or his little Death Eaters. And with renewed determination, she twisted in his grip and jerked her knee up to where it hurt. The werewolf, not expecting this move, immediately let her go, wincing and howling in pain.

Adrenaline pulsing through her veins, Hermione darted off, making her legs move faster and faster. Which way were the students? Would she dare put their lives in crisis by running to them? Why hadn't the Death Eaters attacked the other students? Why her?

Her heart felt as if it were hijacked of all emotion except for determination and fear. "_Run, run, run, Hermione!" _was her only thought. Hermione could hear shouts and spells being thrown at her, the light bouncing off of stones and cracking furnishings in half. Loud footsteps and curses followed, rapidly following her.

Hermione turned back and shot shielding spell after shielding spell, stunning spell after stunning spell. The only hesitation she felt was when the cold night and darkness bit her fair skin. Was she outside already?

She narrowed her eyes and peered carefully at her surroundings. The bright silver orb of the moon shone above, and was reflected in the…

_The water. _

Was she at the Black Lake already? She whispered a _'Lumos', _reflected the light around. It must be the lake.

Ominous footsteps thundered after her, and Hermione faced a dilemma: She could jump into the Lake and face the Giant Squid (if it was up), or she could face the Death Eaters and get tortured. Without further ado, she stripped her outer cloak and dove into the pitch-black waters, slicing through the liquid as if she were born to be in it. She frog-swam to the surface, gulping in a huge breath of air before diving down again, aiming her wand back and thinking, _'Aguamenti Maxima', _a huge jet of clear water shooting out and moving as a jet, blasting her forward like a rocket.

She heard a splash behind her, signaling that the chase was on. A spell whirled by her, and Hermione wondered vaguely if there was a book on spells preformed underwater, and if the spell travelled faster or slower in the water. Another observation that she noted with surprise was that no dark spells were used, or rather, no spells were used to actually _harm _her, only to slow her down or to capture her essentially.

When the trail of water from _'Aguamenti' _stopped, Hermione suddenly felt two muscular ebony-skinned arms wrap around her, constricting her into a cocoon.

She felt the person murmur a spell, and she instinctively stiffened, preparing for a curse to hit her and blast pain into her veins. It never happened.

"_Granger, please, listen to me!" _a familiar voice commanded desperately and surprisingly clearly behind her.

Hermione whirled around to see Blaise Zabini with his wand pointed with a Slytherin determination at her throat.

"_Granger… if you keep on going, Death Eaters are going to get you anyways! I don't want to hurt you, Hermione. But if you keep on swimming, other Death Eaters _will _hurt you with no hesitation, so long you're alive," _Zabini said intellectually.

Hermione stared into his dark eyes. She always thought of Zabini as the best Slytherin that she would ever meet. He was intelligent, fair, and was not nearly as prejudiced or mean as his housemates. His concern seemed genuine, and the way he referred to her as her first name in his second sentence really interested her.

What he said was true as well. While he did not attack her, other Death Eaters wouldn't give a moment's hesitation to bloody her up. She was going to get caught anyways… and though her pride would be marred, at least she would be in a good enough of a condition to find some information out.

"_I… I'll pretend to struggle against you to make it seem real," _Hermione finally responded, closing her eyes as if admitting defeat.

Zabini nodded and grabbed the collar of her shirt, putting on a mask of indifference before hoisting her above water, his wand trained on her back as he steadily pushed both of them ashore.

"Thank you," she murmured to him, catching just a sliver of emotion flickering in the Slytherin's eyes, before he pushed her onto land harshly to put up the charade.

"My Lord," Zabini bowed his head to Tom, kicking the new prisoner forward none-too-gently.

Hermione glared with as much hostility in her expression as possible at the young Dark Lord, who was standing there with an amused countenance on his flawless face.

"So you managed to tame the lioness for just a couple of moments?" Riddle laughed humorously, bending down to look at Hermione better. His layered iris peered at her with a gloating type of emotion.

The other Death Eaters immediately chuckled as well, congratulating Zabini. Hermione felt a flash of betrayal: did Zabini really care for her or did he just want glory and Tom Riddle's liking?

Hermione spat at Riddle, showing her defiance in any way possible. The glob of spit never reached him, it hit some transparent wall and dissolved in thin air. Her eyes flickered to his hand, which didn't even have his wand in it. Wandless magic.

"So how do you feel now, mudblood, since your dear _loving _headmaster has decided to desert you?" Riddle asked, his lips twitching slightly. When he reached out a hand to touch her face, she slapped it away, wincing at how cold his skin was. Like a snake's.

Hermione glowered at him wordlessly for a moment, focusing all of her anger on this one person, before finally answering. "At least he _could _love… or at least he was _loved _in the first place, unlike someone," she sneered.

Riddle showed no sign that her dagger-sharp words had even affected him. "Now tell me, does being _loved _help you all live right now, my little lioness? Is your dear headmaster alive because he has the ability to _love _and is _loved?" _he asked mockingly.

Another soft chuckle rippled through the dark cloaks, and Hermione looked around to only recognize a couple of people, despite that their faces were concealed by a hood and were hidden in shadow.

Zabini, Nott, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle… nearly all of the ancient pureblooded families in Slytherin were there. Hermione turned her attention back to Riddle, who was assessing every little miniscule action that she made with scrutinizing eyes. "At least you die knowing that you were loved," she shot back warily.

"And if I'm not planning on dying anytime soon?" He was smirking, she just knew it.

Hermione knew exactly what he was thinking about. Horcruxes, seven of them, would keep him from 'dying anytime soon', as Riddle put it. She controlled her rising anger and smothered the feeling of her fiery fury. "You just wait, _Voldemort. _We know much more about you then you think," she seethed.

Tom leaned in, and Hermione could see every little bit of his perfect face. Flawless alabaster skin, a sloped nose, a perfectly arched eyebrow, eyes that showed no emotion whatsoever, and lips that…

She cut off her line of thought there. _Stop that. _Hermione knew exactly why he always got his way: girls. Girls would fall for his stunning looks and his voice and–

_Stop that. _

Hermione bit her lip until it began bleeding slightly before focusing back on Riddle's narrowed gaze.

"Now, now, _Miss Granger_. I don't plan on letting you on running away anytime soon," he smirked, getting up and aiming his wand on her. "Don't worry, this is only temporary. You won't have anything to think about… _Stupefy." _

The world suddenly went dark.

**Author's Notes: **You like? Please, please review!


	10. To Give In or Not To Give In

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own the magical world of 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **… Thank you, EYESviolet, sweet-tang-honney, DevonF, and Lost O'Fallon girl, for reviewing the last chapter. …_**Please review**__…_

_Here I am, once again  
I'm torn into pieces  
Can't deny it, can't pretend  
Just thought you were the one  
Broken up, deep inside  
But you won't get to see the tears I cry  
Behind these hazel eyes  
Swallow me then spit me out  
For hating you I blame myself  
Seeing you it kills me now  
No, I don't cry on the outside  
Anymore… _

_-Kelly Clarkson, Behind these Hazel Eyes_

The first thing that Hermione thought of when she woke up was that: _'it's cold', _ridiculous as it was for her to think of the temperature as in comparison to the hungry Death Eaters waiting to using the Cruciatus curse on her. As she shifted to her left side in attempt to change into a more comfortable position, she felt a tug on her right, keeping her firmly place.

Hermione's brown eyes flashed open immediately in panic. Her heart sunk as she realized where she was: directly in the hellhole of the Dark side. From arm to arm and leg to leg were iron fetters, dark magic pulsing through them and threatening her to disobey. Every limb was attached to a huge wooden wheel, which floated on top of–

The water.

The water?

Below her was the pitch-black ominous water lapping ever so slightly on her bare feet, sending shivers through her body when she felt the freezing cold liquid.

"Well, well, looks like Miss Granger has awoken," Riddle's melodic voice spoke in a smooth cadence. Riddle himself was laying casually on a sofa that was safely balanced on a wooden bridge. His dark eyes watched her amusedly, twirling his wand around lazily in his hand.

Hermione bared her teeth, sputtering and spitting at him. It was so easy to believe every word he said and give him everything that he wanted with that heart-breaking handsome face and that _stupid voice! _Feeling the Dark Lord's eyes on her even made her feel _self-conscious_, for Merlin's sake! For the first time, Hermione noticed what she was wearing: just a simple white dress that was embarrassingly short and low…

A flush of blood rose to her cheeks. What the–

"Now, my lioness," Riddle smirked, ruining his whole 'innocent student' façade. "How was your nap?"

"It would've been pleasant if not for the fact that I'm surrounded by filthy traitors that have no hearts," Hermione spat, struggling against the chains. She couldn't help the gasp as an electric current jolted through her body, painfully burning through her and making her feel out of control.

Tom laughed mirthlessly, watching her flinch and struggle more. "I was countlessly warned of your intelligence, Granger. Perhaps I over-estimated you? The more you struggle against those chains, the more you feel the pain."

Hermione gritted her teeth and tried to maintain her pride and dignity as she did as he told and stopped moving. "That's a horrible rhyme," she hissed.

"Oh, I wasn't trying, love," he sneered, cocking his head to one side and watching her with appraising eyes.

"Don't call me that."

Tom leaned forward, clasping his hands together. A strand of his dark hair fell in front of his eyes. "What's the matter, _love? _I thought that _love _was the belief of the weaker generation."

"Why should you speak of love if you can't feel it?" Hermione responded cheekily, a look of irritation flashing through her eyes. _"Control yourself," _she thought, inhaling and exhaling to calm herself. _"He's a snake… just because he has a pretty face it doesn't mean that he's less dangerous." _

Riddle raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You little Gryffindors may not know of the word 'mock', but that's exactly the reason. And, my little lioness, you are in no position to question of what I feel and what I don't feel like doing."

Bristling, she sulked in silence, her heart beating in throat. What are they going to do to her, now that she was strapped to a wheel? What was going to happen? Her heart pounded in her chest, galloping in a crazy frenzy of fear. _Thump, thump, thump… _

_Thump._

_Thump. _

How could Riddle not hear that?

_Thump. _

"Now, now, Granger, enough stalling, as much as I _enjoyed this little conversation," _Riddle sneered sarcastically, leaning forward to watch her with impenetrable eyes.

Hermione's mouth curled into a snarl, her lip curled in defiance. "What do you want, _Tom?" _

Riddle just laughed. Him laughing seemed to actually make him seem even more dangerous than before: the sound was hollow and filled with cruelty, and just the sound of it made Hermione wonder what she was getting herself into. "You are in no position to play around, as much as a Gryffindor you may be. That's the fatal flaw, little lioness. You can't detect danger and force yourself into submission if someone spelt out every word for you."

"And your fatal flaw is your over-confidence, your lust for power, and your belief that emotions make you weak," Hermione shot back, daring herself to stare straight into his eyes. _"His eyes are dark grey. I've never noticed that before," _she observed vaguely, blinking in surprise. "_I've always thought that they were black… and of course, they're red when he's angry…" _

"Most people think that," a nearly angelic voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What?"

Riddle smirked, and Hermione got the impression of 'deer caught in headlights' immediately under his gaze. "Most people think that my eyes are black," he answered smugly, though no other expression could be detected on his face.

"_Dammit! Legilimency!" _Hermione's mind shrieked at her, feeling the familiar prod at the back of her consciousness. She shivered and flinched away from the foreign presence: Tom's mind was dark and cold, enshrouded with black thoughts and completely unable to be accessed. His spirit was much unlike the charisma that he possessed on the outside. While he acted ever so polite and had the gift of persuasion, she wouldn't trust this presence one bit. She had to admit: he was a good actor. Hermione immediately pushed against the alien intruder, focusing on a metal wall and slamming it into him. She knew that she wasn't the master of Occlumency, but… well, hell, she was _Hermione Granger _and she was at least above average in everything.

"You must learn to smother your thoughts all the time, love, or else you may face the consequences," he admonished, a fresh smirk available on his face. As much as she wanted to lean forward and smash that expression off of his much too handsome face, Hermione couldn't lose control and risk electrocution again.

"Of course, _Voldemort," _she answered cloyingly. An artificial smile appeared, and she put on her best imitation of one of the girly girls who were begging for Tom's presence in their overly flirtatious ways.

Hermione swore that she saw a gag mar his features for a moment, but the smooth indifference mask quickly replaced his disgust. Riddle just raised both of his eyebrows and snapped his fingers readily, a dangerous flash of crimson coloring his eyes.

The brave Gryffindor could only prepare for the worst: a Cruciatus Curse, perhaps? But the only response to the Dark Lord's order was a low creak and a sharp moving of the wheel, turning downwards to lower her legs into the water.

Hermione immediately jerked against the chains as her long legs was submerged into the dark fluid, wincing at the blast of coldness. Goose bumps began to rise on her arms already, the freezing water making her bones sore and her blood solid. Answering her struggles was the feeling of little lightning bolts zapping through her system, zapping her until she finally held still. Hermione held herself and forced her body to respond to ever command she gave it. In fact, there was only one command: hold still. She was as stiff as a board, somehow fighting off the instinct to flinch and tread water to get warm.

The water level crept up her stomach, the thin white material of her dress getting soaked and feeling heavier as it pulled her down, sopping wet. It rose above her breasts to her neck, where the wheel gave a painful creak before continuing. Hermione couldn't stop the sense of panic that was rushing through her once more: where they going to allow her to drown?

She knew the answer to that. No, they would only let her stay in the water until her lungs screamed for air. Voldemort surely wanted her to live a while longer so that she would suffer through more pain and torture, and eventually…

Lead Harry and Ron here.

A horrified gasp filled her lungs and throat with air, but that was the last breath she could manage, as the water completely covered her head. Hermione held her breath as long as she could, only letting out a bit of air once in a while. She stared at the blackness of the water; only some streaks of light from the world above penetrated the dark depths. Hermione carefully steered her mind away from thoughts of what exactly was down here, accompanying her underwater. Hopefully no creatures that would tear her apart…

The wheel froze then, letting her wait there at the bottom and forcing her to measure the amount of air that she let out.

At last, she realized that there was no air left in her lungs. She held there for a moment, eyes wandering around and seeing only dark gray in her blurry vision. The color reminded her of Tom's eyes: dark, cold, and merciless. Choking you and making you feel the worst of things…

The water numbed her skin and made her only barely feel the water currents flowing around her skin. It caressed her and prodded at her: but she couldn't feel it. A fire was beginning to grow in her chest, rising into her throat and into her mouth.

Air. She needed air. Air… air…

It was the only thought in her mind then. Just oxygen… she needed to breathe…

_Air… air… air…_

_Air._

_Air._

_Air! _

_AIR! _

Hermione fought against the metallic silver chains, flinching as zap after zap sprung across her body. Outside, her body was cold, yet inside… her body was on fire, flopping like a dead fish from every erratic bolt of electricity and the lack of oxygen. A headache was beginning to build, clouding any thoughts that might've been in Hermione's mind…

The wheel lurched and proceeded to turn the opposite direction. She waited with anticipation, willing it to turn faster…

Her head broke to the surface, gasping for air and spitting water out of her mouth. Her hair was plastered to her skin, wildly framing her pale figure. Hermione spastically blinked water out of her eyes, choking out more water that had somehow gotten into her body.

When her entire body was finally out of the water, she collapsed against the wheel, only the chains holding her upright. Hermione panted from the need of oxygen, taking deep breaths as her chest rose up and down. She was painfully aware of her nearly see-through dress: Riddle could probably see her bra and knickers by now… But her interior-wear was the least of her troubles.

Riddle had an annoyingly calm and innocent expression painted carefully on his face, appraising her and giving her plenty of time to calm down. He only began to speak when a glower made its way to his prisoner's brown eyes, signifying that she had the strength to hate now.

"I hope you've learnt your lesson," he enunciated, his bass voice echoing all over the cold stone room. A malicious glint was in his dark eyes.

Hermione spat at him brusquely, glaring at him while shaking the curtain of hair away from her face. "What lesson, pray tell?"

There was a slightly shuffle behind the Dark Lord, and for the first time, she noticed the cloaked figures behind their leader. Enshrouded in black clothing, she recognized Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy.

"_TRAITOR!" _Hermione's mind shrieked at the three young Slytherins. She immediately tried to bar her temper up, smothering the angry thoughts and screams of betrayals.

Nott was staring straight at her with a hungry look on his face. In fact, the entire look of his face almost scared her more than Tom Riddle. _Almost. _While Nott was upfront with his hatred and his lust for her blood, Tom Riddle was not.

Zabini, on the other hand, just blinked at her with an indifferent look set in his eyes. He was as stiff as a board and as pale as snow, but otherwise nothing was inferred from his appearance. Hermione met his endless midnight blue eyes with an animus glare, and was surprised when a look of… was it _sympathy? _...briefly appear in his eyes before disappearing altogether. Perplexed with this, she turned her attention to Malfoy, determined to only look in his eyes and find out what he was feeling at the moment. But the white-blonde did not meet her eyes, and instead, he stared at the wheel with an expressionless and nearly dead face.

"You will address me as 'My Lord'. You will respond to my every order and command with 'Yes, My Lord', or if it is not a 'yes' or 'no' question, end your answer with 'My Lord'. Am I clear?" Riddle listed with conviction, his eyes perceptibly darkening into black orbs.

Hermione just glared at him wordlessly, her lips pressed into a thin line and refusing to answer his question.

Riddle narrowed his eyes dangerously, red beginning to rim his pupils once again. The red wasn't any color of red: it was the pure color of blood.

This time, the wheel moved on its own accord. Before she could even say, "Stop!", a sharp creak accented the hollow room and her head was dunked under. Tom waited, seeing just a little bit of the shiny strands of her hair underwater and staring at the black stretch of glistening fluid without moving a muscle. The three students behind him began shifting uncomfortably, eyes flickering in between the dark waters and their Lord.

Finally, the wheel turned on its axel, revealing a gray-skinned Hermione, who erupted into coughs once again. She looked positively exhausted and 'out of breath', sagging against the chains and gazing weakly at the Dark Lord.

"_Am I clear?" _his voice rang out clearly and coldly around the room, a sharp edge in it that cautioned no one to question or disobey.

Adamantly, she just bared her row of white teeth at him and stubbornly persisted, her pride keeping her from giving in. If he was going to break every bone in her body, so be it. But he wasn't going to break _her. _Not her heart; not her spirit. No, she would do everything that she could while she lived.

"How foolish you are, love," Riddle said, standing up. There was an ominous glint in his eye, something that reminded her of someone…

It wasn't Tom Marvolo Riddle that she was facing anymore. No, she was facing _Voldemort. _

"_Crucio." _

**Author's Notes: **So… you like? I know, nothing too much happened here but…  
As you can notice, my updates are getting slower and slower… I apologize… but if I had some motivation… _ahem… _please R&R.


	11. For Pride or Not For Pride

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Chapter eleven is up! I apologize for the delay. You see, I was spent a week in the new Harry Potter Theme park… er… finding inspiration for this story… and only that… I was thinking of this story the entire time I was there… Am I being convincing? On the other hand… I like butter-beers.  
Thank you, EYESviolet, vswimming12, f4vivian, and sweet-tang-honney for reviewing. I would really appreciate some feedback, so **please review! **  
To f4vivian: I've actually never watched 'The Long Kiss Goodnight' before, but when I searched the scene on YouTube… well, that chapter really _was _alike to 'The Long Kiss Goodnight'!

_Please, please forgive me  
But I won't be home again  
Maybe someday you'll look up  
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:  
"Isn't something missing?"  
You won't cry for my absence, I know  
You forgot me long ago  
Am I that unimportant…?  
Am I so insignificant…?  
Isn't something missing?  
Isn't someone missing me?_

_-Evanescence, Missing _

"_Crucio." _

The curse echoed eerily over the stark room, the raw hostility and venom at the heart of the command. Hermione had barely registered the fact that this was one of the few times in which Riddle wasn't playing an 'ole so polite and gentleman' card when a lash of inexplicable pain flooded into her system, all trace of thought disintegrating.

She did not even react when the chains and fetters shattered like a collection of bright orange fireworks. She did not react when her body was levitated forward and dropped unceremoniously onto the wooden floor before the Dark Lord. No, Hermione was far too gone.

Her first instinct was to scream. It was innate for her to rake her nails across her face, pulling at her skin as if that pain could overpower the Cruciatus Curse, and led out a sharp shriek as wave after wave of hot fire replaced her blood and streak after streak of ice slithered and twined around her bones. But somehow, her scream was cut off. Somehow, a thought snaked its way into her barely comprehendible mind, and to her utmost surprise, the voice seemed to be Harry's. Perhaps it was the affects of the Cruciatus Curse kicking in, driving her slowly towards insanity.

"_Don't scream, Mione. Be that Gryffindor you are at heart and don't scream. It's what he wants. Don't scream…" _

Ron's voice joined him. _"Come on, Mione. You can do it: for Gryffindor, for the Light… for us." _

"_He can take everything from you except for your pride…" _

Hermione's body shook violently, uncontrollable tears leaking through her eyes and streaking down her alabaster face. She clutched her abdomen, covering her ears and shaking her head, rocking back and forth. Ron… she wished that she forgave him. She wished that she could've said goodbye…

"_Be strong, Hermione…"_

The Gryffindor bit her lip. Hard. So hard, in fact that the thin skin on her lip tore and crimson blood flowed from it, dripping down onto her chin. But it did not hurt. No, nothing hurt more than _Crucio. _Nothing.

Priorities seemed to all be a jumble in Hermione's mind. There was pride, of course… and the desire to succeed. There was hatred… her want to simply tear Riddle apart limb by limb. And finally… there was instinct. The simple way out. To scream and kick and beg for it to all go away. To trade in Harry and Ron's life just for it to _all stop… _

Her instincts growled and snarled at the bars in which Hermione carefully set them in so that they would not be let loose. No, she would not beg. She would not scream. She could not, for all she cared. They screamed at Riddle to stop… stop the pain… But Hermione would not let them cross her lips. Pride was all she had left.

She barely noticed when Riddle lifted his wand, peering at her with what was probably satisfaction and frustration. Satisfaction in her pain. Frustration at her pride. His frustrations made it all seem worth it in that little second.

Hermione trembled as she wrapped her shaky arms around her legs and curled up, bringing her knees to her chest. She really looked like a delicate thing… fragile and scared, in the most assailable position: in front of Riddle's wand.

"I do recommend following such instructions in the future. It may save you from… consequences," Riddle said pleasantly, an annoying polite expression plastered on his face. He twirled his wand in his fingers casually, as if unaware of the potency in the spell in which he had just cast.

Hermione forced herself to raise her head and stare into his eyes with defiance in every reflection of her brown orbs. "Damn you," she whispered, though the obscenity offered no impact to the Dark Wizard. Her vulnerable state prevented any aggression that might've punctuated her words if otherwise.

"Now, now, My Lioness. I would've thought that you've learned your lesson," he raised his wand tantalizingly, an eyebrow raised mockingly, daring her to contradict him again.

She hated how, in his voice, he even made that offer sound appealing. If Hermione hadn't known the punishment for… _disrespecting… _him, the 'lesson' might've been something that any female wanted. So Hermione snarled wordlessly at him: it was the most that she could dare to do.

"Ah, have I stunned the Brightest Witch of our Age into silence?" Riddle leered, slinking forward and lightly touching her chin with his index finger.

Hermione immediately jerked away from his touch, her chin burning from his cold skin. She bared her teeth at him, but otherwise controlled her temper and did not offer a response.

Riddle smiled cruelly, showing a row of white teeth. "I'm honored." And with that, he straightened himself up, beckoning to the three young Death Eaters, one with an expression of bloodthirstiness and the other two with identical masks of horror. They all immediately composed themselves into a look of reverence for their master.

"Bring her to the lower dungeons," Riddle instructed coldly, eyes slowly returning to its normal color of dark grey. "But separate her from the others' cells. I hope you all watched carefully tonight." His glare lingered slightly on Malfoy, as if he suspected that Malfoy was weak. "You will all someday repeat the normal procedures of torture."

"Yes, My Lord," they rasped.

"Now go."

O

_Draco's POV _

I really couldn't believe that it was Granger that was right there. 'Filthy', I had called her in Hogwarts. And now, chained on that wheel with no way to escape, she was streaked with mud and blood, dressed flimsily in a white dress.

She knew of my weakness. She knew that I was too arrogant to simply want to spend my life bowing before the Dark Lord. And hell, it's no free ride. Stupid, stupid Granger. How could she read me so easily while others couldn't, and yet wander off alone, in a castle filled with Death Eaters?

Zabini told me that he instructed her to go quietly and other Death Eaters wouldn't hurt her then. I really wondered how he sobered her from her hysteria. Granger, letting her get captured? I don't think that I can believe him. Granger would go peacefully with Blaise, and yet not be forced into submission by the Dark Lord?

I hate her. Granger. I really do. Why could she stand the Cruciatus Curse and not scream while I couldn't? Why was she offered the choice to fight for her freedom while I could not? I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Dammit, and yet I feel bad for her. Watching her there, getting drowned and put into pain… I really can't say that I envy her position now. But I wouldn't dare help her. No. It… wasn't worth it. I wouldn't have even entertain that thought before, and I still won't do that now.

I never knew of that Water Room before. And for the little time that I've known of it, I really have no love for it. It's another Torture Chamber. Just like all of the others.

She's looking at me. Shit. Great. That's like putting a bright spotlight on me with a neon sign that pegged me different. Crap, the Dark Lord's looking my way. What had Snape said?

_Clear your mind. _

I whisked away all thought. Just a grey wall. Grey was a really dull color. It was empty. Vacant. Stark.

And it was the color of my eyes.

It was the color of Riddle's too.

My mother always thought that the color grey had some significance. _"It is not dull, Draco!" _she had said, blinking at me as if I were crazy. _"Grey is the color of the Malfoy eyes, filled with our authority and magical powers. It is our trademark, our eyes."_

"_And that is all, Mother? With all due respect to our ancestry and to you, that is superficial," I had answered bravely. _

"_I cannot teach you to love color and nature. You must learn yourself."_

"_I think it's all shit."_

"_Draco!"_

"_I apologize, Mother, for my vulgar language."_

I understand now, the difference in the color grey. It _was _dull in some cases: like a rainy day that you didn't find the light in. It was cold, like Riddle. Heartless… completely structured out of stone. And it _could _be warm. Like Mother's eyes, I suppose. When she smiles. Dammit, I'm all sappy. And Malfoys don't get sappy.

I hook an arm under hers, dragging her forward. Blaise and Theo didn't even need to help me: she was feather-light, with her skeletal body and translucent skin, I was actually afraid to break her.

The look on Theo's face really disgusts me. Hunger, lust, bloodlust (there is certainly a difference in between them), and violence.

Under the careful eye of my… master, Merlin it really _pains _me to say that… I hoisted Granger to the room. I knew that she was fragile then, and that I should've been cautious when moving her. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. You shed your mercy once you've entered the realm of the Dark Lord's.

It doesn't take long to reach the dungeons, what with her weightlessness. I throw her down into a cell: close to the others, but empty otherwise, like the Dark Lord had instructed. The other prisoners are all huddled in the corner of their cells, trying for body heat and also running away. Running away from _me. _

I feel like a slave in my own house.

I _am _a slave in my own house.

O

_General POV _

Hermione stumbled as she was pushed roughly into her jail cell, wincing as her back cracked sharply on the stone and pain flash through her body as she crumbled to the ground. When she was sure that the three… traitors?... were gone, she broke down. Tears began to pour out like a flood again, unable to be held back. Oh God, oh God, oh God…

She was stuck here, in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor. There was _nothing _she could do… and more importantly, what were _they _going to do with _her? _Hermione knew that they would use her to get to Harry. And from what she found out, Riddle/Voldemort was even more powerful now that his soul was not split into seven pieces. Though he was not properly immortal any longer, his spells were much more potent and harmful, not to mention, dangerous.

There was a little pride that boosted her ego when she realized that she did not utter one cry when the Cruciatus Curse was brought down on her. But the pride quickly disappeared when she thought of the pain. Sure, everyone said that the pain was unimaginable and was to the extreme, but you really would never know exactly _how _extreme it was or understand how much of a blow to your life and heart it was until you actually are the victim. She knew that she was on the wrong side of Riddle's wand. But perhaps…

An idea flickered slowly to life in her mind.

Perhaps she could get on the _right side _of his wand?

But no… she doubted it. Even in the case in which she got to see Riddle everyday, she would not be able to lie to him. And this, pretending to… like… him and seducing him was a big thing to fake. It would not work.

Defeat lay heavily in her heart. Hermione Granger did not fail. Not until now. Not until the Death Eaters took over the castle and killed Dumbledore. Now, Hermione Granger has failed.

She wished that she had accepted Ron's apology. That was one of her most biggest regrets in life: at least if she died… no, _when _she died, he'd know that she forgave him and loved him in a brother-sister manner. She hoped that she never got the chance to tell him that she forgave him though: because by then, Ron would've been caught, which would mean that Harry was caught, which meant that all hope and faith would be lost.

"H-Hermione?" a meek voice came from the shadows. It was strangely familiar… as if it was a voice from a thousand years away.

Hermione blinked tears from her eyes and said towards the general direction of the speaker. "Who are you?" she whispered, scared that her voice would tremble if she spoke anything above that volume. Or perhaps even more afraid of the Death Eaters who might come down and punish her.

"It's really you?" the girl spoke, louder this time. "It's me, Parvati Patil!"

"Parvati?" Hermione blinked. How was it that Hogwarts already seemed so far away? Was it just that the happy times were so long gone that they couldn't go back? _Happy times. _Oh, what she would trade to go back to her carefree life when she was just an adolescent. Now was the beginning, she realized. Now was the time in which the Dark Ages begin.

"You… you got caught too?" Parvati murmured, and Hermione heard a little thud. She guessed that that was the other Gryffindor girl sagging against the wall.

Hermione sighed. "Yeah. They caught me when we were in the Centre Courtyard. What happened to you?"

"The Death Eaters overran the entire school," she answered sullenly. "All muggleborns are either captured or even dead, some of them managed to escape, I think. Half-blooded Gryffindors were also given the same fate."

Hermione gasped. Dead? She didn't think that this war was that far ahead already… Dead. Some people where dead. People that she's grown up with… Never to talk to her again. Dead.

"Are there… are there others here?" Hermione raised her voice, saying this as loud as she dared to.

"Here. I'm Hannah. Hannah Abbott," a voice that was in the same direction of Parvati's spoke up.

Hermione remembered her. Hannah was part of Dumbledore's Army, a pretty Hufflepuff that was in the same year as her.

"My name is Euan," a small voice that was decidedly masculine came from a cell closer to Hermione's. "Abercrombie."

She blinked in remorse. Euan Abercrombie… he had just come to Hogwarts in her fifth year. Which meant that he was still only twelve right now…

"Hey Hermione. Katie Bell here."

The list went on. There were too many people here that she knew, and still too many people here that she didn't. To her surprise, many students were also from other magical schools and some were even simply muggles. The poor muggles were finally convinced by the other witches and wizards that there was such thing as magic.

All of them, Hermione realized, where looking up to her, thinking that she had some ingenious plan to get them out. As the third and female member of the Golden Trio, she was bound to get out, right? She sagged against the wall as if tired by her burden, her heart heavy with dread. After the introductions had all trailed off, they went on to tell how they were tortured. Some people could barely speak, others were clearly dying from the loss of blood.

With a_ bang! _a man stalked into the room. The prisoners blinked spastically as light streamed in through the door, trying to identify whom the black silhouette was. They all shuddered and moved to one side when they recognized Fenrir Greyback, baring his teeth ominously at them.

He threw some food into the cells, whipping them deftly through the bars, not caring where the food went. Greyback simply levitated the water into the cells, though his levitation spell was done lazily and nearly half of the water in every cup had spilt out by the time it made it to the prisoners.

Hermione instinctively reached for her wand– when she realized that she didn't have one. Of course they took away her wand, they weren't stupid. At least, not all of them were stupid.

There was a sharp yelp and squeak as Greyback swung open a barred door, grabbing Katie Bell with no mercy, nearly yanking her hair out of its roots. He proceeded to cast a dark spell on her, creating slashes of blood to appear on her pale skin.

It was torture. They could see how the intricate lines of her skin ripped apart, slowly and painfully, and let blood seep through, dripping from her face, her arms, her legs, her chest. Katie screamed as more and more blood began appearing like splotches of paint, turning paler and whiter if possible.

Finally, as if reluctantly, Greyback lifted the spell. He threw some water and a towel into the cell with Katie, growling, "Clean her up." It was obvious that he would much rather to suck her blood.

Greyback paused in front of Hermione's dark room, a smirk gracing his demented features as he leaned in with his hot breath smothering her face. "Little Mudblood, well, well. My Lord is merciful with his followers, and specifically honors those who do good deeds. I'm sure that I will be awarded with a nice bite to eat. Don't worry, I have a certain weakness for pretty girls like you."

Hermione immediately leaned away, pushing against the wall uselessly. She flinched as he placed some food and water into her cell, setting them down ever so carefully. "Eat, little princess. The thin girls never taste as good," the werewolf cackled before whipping away and storming out of the dungeons with another _bang! _of the door.

"Merlin…" she heard Parvati whimper once Fenrir Greyback was gone. "Katie was lucky."

Hermione gaped at her. Lucky? "She got her skin all torn up! How was she lucky?" she demanded, fearing the answer.

Parvati gave her a look of pity and despair, eyes filled with the horrors that she'd witnessed. "Oh we've had worst." And that was all she said.

The Gryffindor closed her eyes, trying to burn the picture of Katie and her blood pooling all around her onto the cold ground. Worse? What could be worse, other than _Crucio? _

A couple of more minutes of pondering left her with an empty and hollow stomach. The sharp cramp in her body was not to be ignored. Hermione looked hungrily and longingly at the food: she really was starving… but she couldn't trust Death Eaters.

"Are you sure that this isn't poisoned?" Hermione whispered to the general lot of prisoners, who were all wolfing down stale bread and gulping down warm water.

Parvati shook her head, not that anyone could see her in the dark anyways. "If they wanted to hurt us, they could simply use the Cruciatus Curse. No… they just want us to be able to live to entertain them for a little while."

That thought wasn't so comforting. But Hermione still ate the food, eating it slowly and trying to find some good flavor in it. She believed that food ate slowly would last longer… and perhaps she could… _enjoy… _the bread.

O

The days went on like that. A Death Eater would stalk into the damp dungeons and throw them some food and water as if they were animals in a zoo, and then torture a prisoner with dark magic. Hermione understood now, what Parvati meant by the fact that Katie had been lucky. One boy had gotten his organs turned inside out, and then got healed, then got them turned inside out once again. His screams had filled the air and echoed through the chambers through the night.

And that was not all.

Watching the people that she knew get tortured and put through pain made Hermione feel defeat and determination. It was all she felt these days: these ambivalent emotions.

She could say that she dreaded the day that she would be tortured in front of everyone. Who wouldn't? Who would want to be put through excessive pain and gory?

But somehow, she welcomed that pain. It would repay for her debts, her failure, and maybe she could die knowing that she had survived a lot in her life.

O

Today was the day. Hermione just _knew. _Today, one Death Eater would come in and torture her. She had swore to herself that she wouldn't scream. Nothing could be as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. If she hadn't screamed then, she would not scream now. Especially not in front of all these people.

As the door creaked open, Hermione felt a shiver of relief that it was not Fenrir Greyback that was sent to torture her. Greyback had a flair for dramatic entrances and exits. He would not do to slink inside the dungeons.

Curiosity at her peak, she peered at the figure. And her heart plunged a thousand miles down.

It was Draco Malfoy.

He was the first of the young Death Eaters, she supposed. With his white-blonde hair like a halo above his head, Hermione knew that she did not misidentify him. Why? Why did they have to send him? It would only hurt her more, knowing that she was tortured under her own classmate's wand…

She knew why. Of course. They didn't want her to fall. They didn't want her to simply feel pain. They didn't want to hear her scream.

They wanted her to _break. _To _shatter. _

And they were doing a hell of a great job.

Hermione waited, her heart pounding in her throat, as Malfoy unlatched her cell door. He did not meet her eyes, and she felt despair when she saw no regret in his own steely silver eyes.

It surprised her when he spoke.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you."

**Author's Notes: **Please review if you want me to continue.


	12. Part Two: Black Ages

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

**Author's Notes: **Gah! I love all of you who reviewed, whose names are: Lost O'Fallon Girl, vampirelover2009, sweet-tang-honney, f4vivian, slytherintriumvirate, EYESviolet, and vswimming12! Thank you guys so much for reviewing, and please continue to do so! _**Please review… **_

To vampirelover2009: Isn't that such a coincidence? As for Tom and Hermione's relationship… This really isn't a fluffy romance like the other two stories that you've read, and the relationship will be really gradual. Don't worry, I promise that it _will _happen sooner or later. How they will fall in love, well, you're going to have to wait and find out inserts smiley face here.

To vswimming12: That really is one of the highest praises I've ever gotten! Thank you!

To Lost O'Fallon Girl: I suppose cliffhangers are my specialty. Then perhaps people would review… 'She said mischievously'…

To sweet-tang-honney: Thank you so much!

To slytherintriumvirate: Thank you! And perhaps I'll grant your wish someday.

To EYESviolet: I literally laughed out loud when I read the last part of your review. And yes, that WOULD be ingenious. I'm still deciding if I should do that though. Maybe. Maybe not inserts wink here.

To f4vivian: Thank you so much! I'll keep on posting if people keep on reviewing and reading.

**Pain **_**– noun**_

_**1. **Physical suffering or distress, as due to injury, illness, etc._

_**2. **Mental or emotional suffering or torment._

_**3. **An annoying or troubling person or thing._

_**-Verb**_

_**4. **__To cause physical pain to; hurt._

_**5.**_ _To cause (someone) mental or emotional pain; distress._

_**Part Two: The Dark Age **_

Hermione froze, unable to move, to blink; to _breathe. _What? The Dark Lord wanted to see her again? She briefly remembered how the last encounter had gone, and just thinking of it made her shudder. Hermione tried to count back the number of days that she was in this abyss. She failed. There were simply no 'days' and no 'time' in the dungeons because they could not tell if it was day or night. The only way to mark every 24 hours was when a Death Eater would come in to torture a poor victim.

That poor victim was now her.

Listing every mealtime in her head, she realized that two weeks had already passed since Hogwarts' fall. As said before, the dungeons made life timeless.

"Get a move, Granger," Malfoy hissed, the door opening with a sharp creak. He unlocked the chains that held her to the wall with surprising skill and familiarity, and then quickly stepped back as if to avoid touching her again.

Hermione snarled wordlessly and obliged. Her muscles had been cramped in that little space, and she had not been this close to another individual since Hogwarts. All of the other prisoners had another person in their cell for comfort: she did not.

Of course she didn't.

She didn't even react when Malfoy cast temporary spells that kept her from running. The only thought that occurred to her was that she had never heard of that incantation. It was probably something dark. Something that Riddle made up.

Or was it Voldemort?

She concluded that it didn't even seem to matter anymore.

"_There is a significance difference in between Mr. Riddle and Voldemort, Miss Granger," _a terrifyingly familiar voice resonated in her head. It was spoken with ancient wisdom and regret, as if wishing that he could correct a wrongdoing. As if the entire rise of Voldemort was his fault.

Hermione choked back some tears when she realized that it was Dumbledore speaking in her head. She clenched her teeth, blinking rapidly so that stray tears could not betray her, and thought harshly, _"I'm sorry professor… but you are _dead! _And here I am, talking to dead people in my head…" _

His voice did not speak up again.

"Get on with it, mudblood," Malfoy deadpanned, narrowing his silver eyes at her. His eyes were like two spots of light in the unending darkness, his entire form easily contrasting as the result from his pale skin and hair, though his stark black robes blended in to its background.

Hermione just gritted her teeth and walked forward stiffly, her muscles protesting from the sudden use of them. She caught Parvati's pitying look, as well as Hannah's sympathetic expression.

She felt an unexpected flash of anger at this. She didn't want their pity! She didn't want their sympathy! Hermione hated that look: it reminded her enormously of condescending adults and their spiteful glances, thin lips, and their falsetto sweet voice that made them sound as if they were speaking to a five-year-old.

The Gryffindor in her did not want to back down. She didn't _need _others to feel bad for her right now. She didn't _need _to seem weak in front of everyone! So Hermione threw her shoulders back, stifling a wince of pain, and stalked after Malfoy with a set jaw and determined eyes.

The walk was silent and awkward. There were many times when Hermione just wanted to _ask_ him… to wonder and inquire for his answer. '_How long were you a Death Eater? Do you even _want _to be like this? Why did you betray us so? Don't you even _care?'

But she sewed her mouth shut and just burned imaginary holes in the back of his perfect 'not-a-hair-out-of-place' head. Malfoy did not turn once to check that she was still following him, and his tensed shoulders and aristocratic walk never ceased.

Hermione peered at her surroundings, taking in the narrow, stone passageways and flickering torches that eerily illuminated the hallways. There were deep cracks and crevices on the raw stone, covering the walls, ceilings, and floors like a design. At several places she could peer through a wide opening through a wall, only to be greeted with more passages full of mazes.

Was this Malfoy Manor? Where was the grandness of the mansion that was so rumored in the Wizarding World?

Her questions were answered shortly.

Malfoy stopped abruptly before a genuine bronze door. It was all Hermione could do to not run into him like a fool. _That _would be an awkward situation.

The door itself had the most peculiar aspects: Firstly, it was most obviously shaped into a circle, unlike the usual rectangle that most doors had. Secondly, it was sealed shut, with no apparent way to open it. And when Hermione leaned forward inquisitively, she could feel the hum of powerful magic, thrumming all around it like a protective barrier.

Malfoy glowered at her, raising an arm to signal her to stay back, before stepping forward, through the invisible wall. The reaction was instant.

A slash of light suddenly cracked through the floor, and in just a couple of more seconds, a 'M', was glowing and pulsing with ancient magic, recognizing Draco and seeming to bathe him with familiarity and light. Thin tendrils of the light wound its way up his leg, crisscrossing his body until he was fully encased within its beauty.

Hermione couldn't help but to stare in awe at this foreign magic. She could literally feel the power thrumming through the floors, vibrating through her core. And she wouldn't be surprised if she could literally _touch _the power and the waves that it was sending off. Hermione closed her eyes when the light got much too bright for her eyes to adjust to, vaguely thinking of how purebloods were so powerful.

Wait.

Did she really just think that?

In her shock and astonishment, her eyes snapped open, realizing on the subject that she had just touched upon. Did the light only recognize those of pureblood? Why was it that her, a lowly muggle-born, could not ever rejoice in such ancient magic? Were purebloods _really _that much better? And most importantly…

_Did they deserve to be more superior? _

The light had begun to fade, losing its brilliance as if being seeped away, and soon, the only thing left was the bright 'M' carved on the cold stone floor. The circular door moved slowly but with no flaw otherwise as it crawled to the side, revealing a cylindrical room.

The room's blue aura immediately poured all over the place, lighting every dark corner with the strange blue light. When she peered closer at this peculiar sight, she saw that water was running from one end of the room to the other, blasted out with so much force that it travelled all the way across the ceiling without making one drop of water land on the dry floor.

Malfoy's lips quirked slightly when he saw the stunned look on her face. It was one of Malfoy Manor's secret passages out of the dungeon. He thought that his ancestors were rather cunning of thinking of this, Slytherin as they were. Should the Malfoys have the rare need to take refuge from their enemies, there was a secret room, right in the middle of the maze of passageways, that could be accessed through this very way that he was leading Granger through. The Dark Lord had requested for him to bring Granger this way so that they could arrive at his side faster, skipping the numerous turns that it took for them if they went directly upstairs.

The bronze door behind them shut, emitting some green sparks as the magic completely sealed it of all intruders. Just after this door closed, the next one opened to reveal a beautiful Grand Hall.

Hermione timidly followed Malfoy to the main part of the Manor. It was everything that she had expected and heard of it to be: high, Vanderbilt family-styled ceilings built with the crafty Asian meticulousness, Roman marble pillars that were built so flawlessly, a smooth emerald-green marble floor polished to perfection, and an American edge of a contemporary neatness. Overall, the classic manor was a sight to behold and every witches' and wizards' dream home.

There was, in Hermione's mind, a huge flaw; a flaw in which has marred the entire pride and beauty of this magnificent mansion. And that was the Death Eaters, cloaked in their black attire, milling around and pausing to glower at Hermione with cruel and insane expressions.

What she did not know was that Draco agreed with her in every way.

He missed the ancient and proud manner in which his home used to have. In fact, it wasn't a home to him no longer. No, this belonged to the Death Eaters. Of course, it still had the title 'Malfoy Manor', but in another sense, it felt as if it was already gone. Gone from his hands, and stripped from its name.

Of course he would never admit that.

Hermione stayed close to Malfoy as he led her up the right staircase, as opposed to the left, which had many Death Eaters who were hanging about. It felt like forever as they climbed the grand staircase, feeling the hot glares from the other Dark followers burning into their backs. Glaring at Hermione, because she was all but a mere mudblood and the sidekick of the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die, and Draco, because he was chosen to assist the Dark Lord.

Jealousy was a cruel thing.

Hermione knew that she was trembling as she walked. It was inevitable, the way those Death Eaters stared at her. It made her feel weak and exposed at the numbers of black-cloaked people there were as opposed to herself: one.

Malfoy had taken a left, setting his pace not in favor of Hermione, whose legs were shorter, causing her to start a slight jog to keep up with his speed walk. He paused before the black French doors, looking at her with the _'are you ready?' _expression, and then grabbed the golden handle, which resembled a snake.

"_Typical," _Hermione thought dryly, taking in the frozen figure of a golden snake with piercing emerald eyes. For some rather odd reason, the green eyes reminded her of Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry…

Both doors were pushed forward to grant her entrance.

"Ah, yes, my dear Hermione, do come in," a voice said melodically. She shivered involuntarily, biting her lip before gathering her courage and taking a mini step onto the dark cherry-wood floors.

The room was spacious, with no doubt that the Malfoys had given their master the best room in the house minus the master bedroom. Large, bay windows lined the front wall, most of them drawn with the silver curtains, though some revealed the darkness of the night outside.

Hermione was once again reminded that she knew not the time of day in the dungeons. It was dark… all black… all unknown… unpredictable. And here the teenager sat, comfortable in a room filled with light.

On her right was a circular bed with green satin bedcovers and matching pillows. All furniture was the darkest of woods, completely black, and had silver handles, no doubt all genuine.

So there He sat, lounged on a sofa, looking absolutely…

Normal.

Hermione gulped, knowing fully well of the advantage that Tom Riddle had over her. Instead of looking like a bald-headed nose-less spider-fingered bastard, Voldemort was… _ahem… _a rather handsome specimen. Sitting there as if he did not plan every night to rule over the world, Hermione understood why no one ever suspected _the _Tom Riddle to ever turn bad.

"I apologize for the rather horrid accommodations, _Meus Leana," _he said with the most even and musical voice that she had ever heard. The only way she knew that he was lying was that _Voldemort _never _apologized. _

"Bastard," she spat, stalking forward with narrowed eyes. She carefully controlled herself so that she did _not _look at his 'oh-so-perfect' hair, his perfect alabaster skin, and his enticing eyes…

It surprised her that when he spoke, it was with amusement and in a gentle and soft voice, instead of with anger. "I have enticing eyes?"

Hermione blinked at him, clenching her fists and beginning to tremble. There it was again: the little dark presence in the back of her head. And believe me, it was getting _way too familiar. _With vicious strength, she pulled up her mental barriers and imagined a knife sinking into his white skin and marring it with red–

"I was not under the impression that you were under violent tendencies."

When she looked up, she saw that he had stood, graceful even in stillness. "Y-You're impossible," she sputtered, noticing how he dwarfed her in height. He was an entire head taller than her, peering down at her with those timeless eyes…

"Am I?"

Hermione bit her lip, a habit of hers that was developing rapidly. She noticed how his eyes travelled to her lip when she did this, and quickly took a step away instinctively. Grabbing a picture of Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she implanted the mental image in her mind and felt a satisfying flash of anger and fear enter her.

"Yes! Yes you are! You killed many of innocent people, all who _deserved _to live…!" Hermione shouted at him, her anger abruptly seizing control of her and pouring over her carefully set barriers. She gritted her teeth and shook violently, glaring at him with such animosity that if looks could kill, Tom Riddle would be lying flat on his back with blood soaking his clothes.

Riddle narrowed his eyes at how quickly her mood changed. "'deserved to live'?" he quoted harshly, coldness seeping into his tone. "Mudbloods _do not _'deserve to live'."

Hermione bared her teeth at him, thinking of then how _she _would not deserve to live. She had only wanted good for this world. Wasn't that enough? "Maybe in your own theory 'mudbloods do not deserve to live'. And what've you? You're half filth as well!"

Adrenaline drove her onwards now, and she did not stop even when she began to see the Dark wizard's eyes turn into a ominous red color.

"And what've your own _father? _You are at least half of him. Half muggle, are you? And you _killed _him. What does that make you?" Hermione flung out her words like knives, spilling out all of her thoughts as they came. When no more angry words poured out of her mouth, she froze. She had went too far this time, and she knew it.

She had prepared for a Cruciatus Curse. She had prepared to be writhing on the ground, clutching her head, and wishing for death. But she was _not _prepared for the answering slap that send a flash of pain to her left cheek, blood immediately rushing to the burning skin. With a yelp, she fell backwards onto the ground, landing not so gracefully on her bum, while clutching her cheek.

He towered over her, crimson eyes narrowed and lip curled. "You dare disrespect me?" he asked, his voice deadly soft.

Hermione shuddered, slowly inching away from him. Somehow, the slap seemed to have more meaning than the Cruciatus Curse. While various Death Eaters used the Cruciatus Curse all the time, a slap was not the same. And, unluckily for her, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type who valued the code of 'not hitting girls'.

Riddle pulled in a sharp breath through his nose, barking: "Yvette!"

With a sharp _crack! _an older girl appeared, dressed in a tight-fitting black dress and on her knees, her head bowed. She had incredibly straight and sleek black hair and sapphire blue eyes. "Master called for me?" she whispered.

"Bring this girl to the others. Prepare her for the Branding. Now go, before I kill her," Riddle said harshly, pacing back and forth with narrowed eyes. "And believe me, when I say that I won't kill you now, I'll take more pleasure in your death later. It won't be an easy death for you, _Meus Leana." _

Yvette stood up, curtsying quickly, before lighting wrapping a hand around Hermione's upper right arm. With a strange pull, they disappeared, the last thing that Hermione saw in the bedroom were the blood-red eyes of Tom Riddle.

O

"Where are we?" Hermione asked the moment the world stopped spinning. They were standing in a room, larger than Riddle's, that held seven full-sized beds with silver bedspreads on all of them.

The pretty girl, Yvette, answered her promptly, "Our bedroom. You're the thirteenth girl to arrive here," she gave her a sympathetic glance. "But believe me, they treat us better than they did in the dungeons."

Hermione blinked, feeling dread well up inside of her as she processed those words. She was no longer suffering like those in the dungeons. What of Parvati, Katie, and Hannah? She _needed _to help them… But she was suspicious of the girl in front of her and did not mention her thoughts. "What he called me – _Meus Leana – _What does that mean?" Hermione asked, taking to a new subject.

Yvette gave her a curious look. "It's Latin for 'My Lioness'. Is there any particular reason as to why he called you that?"

"He just… I'm a Gryffindor, I guess."

"Oh. Is that so?" Yvette asked, rummaging through the closet.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Are you? I've actually never seen you at Hogwarts before…"

Yvette looked at her, a green dress in her arms. "I didn't go to Hogwarts," she said slowly, unfolding the satin article of clothing. The dress had beautiful emeralds sewed onto the hem and neckline, and it was tight at the top and to her upper thigh, and then flowed out like a flower at the bottom.

"You… didn't go to Hogwarts?"

"No."

"But–"

"Listen to me. These girls here– most of us didn't come from Hogwarts. Some of us are muggles while others were just captured because of our muggle-born blood or being a squib. I am a half-blood whose family supported the rights of all muggle-borns, but because I am a half-blood, I am the leader of us girls. Our Lord has already been conquering other places before he actually attacked Hogwarts," Yvette murmured, articulating every word in the process.

Hermione swore that under that perfectly indifferent voice there must've been an accusation towards Hogwarts and Harry, but decided to push her anger down and get more out of the girl.

"You're the leader of us?"

Yvette gazed at her warily. "Don't get me wrong under false pretenses, Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger. But My Lord treats me well, and I will follow him and remain loyal for my time being. I was chosen because of my half-blood status, and because I am twenty-two years old, far older than some other girls who are here."

Hermione turned her attention to the dress, troubled but otherwise satisfied with her answer. "And why does Riddle give us such luxury?"

"He wants all of his ladies to be dressed and cleaned up properly, and therefore grants us a good-night's sleep. And while you are here… you are to address him as 'Lord' or 'Master' for your own good. At least that is what I advise." Her blue eyes studied the new girl carefully. "But you seem too proud for your own good."

"I suppose I am… wait. _His _ladies?"

"You serve him, of course."

**Author's Notes: **So… how was it? Did you like? Please give me your feedback! I have to say that I was absolutely encouraged with the number of reviews I got last chapter! Please review if you want me to continue.


	13. Black Tears

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you, Wicked Sapphira, Darkness-Lightness, sweet-tang-honney, vswimming23, and EYESviolet for reviewing! **Please review**_**. **__Sorry to say, but I am not the type to rely on my own encouragement and thoughts (one of my fatal flaws, really) so please drop a comment and tell me how I'm doing and if there's anything wrong with this story! _

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Thank you for reviewing! Yes, yes, I've heard much of my 'oh-so-sexy' Tom grins. Perhaps I _will _watch 'A Long Kiss Goodnight'. It sounds like a great movie… On the other hand, I didn't get to drink pumpkin juice. I'd love to try it though! Maybe some other time… And yes, I swear I am twelve years old. I turn thirteen this December. I promise inserts smiley face here.

To _Darkness-Lightness_: Thank you for reviewing! Ah yes, the delights of winning and sweet victory! Got to say, I might use that review as a quote. I'll give you the credit if I ever use it winks.

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you! Oh, and love that profile picture.

To _vswimming12: _Pure genius? Oh, I'm flattered inserts smiley face here. You really can be encouraging, can't you? Your reviews really make my day.

To _EYESviolet: _If your mind is going where I think it's going then stop it grins… Yes, my beautiful impression on our troubled and… sweet? Draco. Wait… did you just put 'sweet' and 'Draco' in the same sentence?

**Loyalty **_**– noun**_

**1. **_The state or quality of being loyal; faithfulness to commitments or obligations._

**2. **_Faithful adherence to a sovereign, government, leader, cause, etc._

**3.**_ An example or instance of faithfulness, adherence, or the like: a man with fierce loyalties._

"I– _Pardon?" _Hermione sputtered, slapping herself repeatedly across the cheek to make sure that this was not a dream. Looking ridiculous as she continually stained her cheek red, she lowered her arms, only to begin pinching her arm and yelping at the 'unexpected' pain that came from this action.

Yvette gave her a strange look. "This is not a dream, if that is what you are trying to figure out. You were rescued from the dungeons to _serve _him, of course. If they were to simply set you free, that would be rather… too _kind_ for the Dark Side." She brushed a bit of sleek black hair from her eyes, bringing the satin dress that she was holding to eye-level. The emeralds reflected the light from the candles that lighted the room, glimmering beautifully.

The brunette gave the glamorous dress one look and then turned to stare at Yvette. "This is definitely a dream. Riddle may want his servants to look good but he wouldn't give a lowly _mudblood _like _me _a dress like _that." _

Yvette rolled her eyes slightly, gesturing for Hermione to follow her to the bathroom, which hung off like an extended room from their bedrooms. She opened to the door to reveal the granite tile, cornered bathtub, and the modern beauty of a master suite's bathroom.

Hermione groaned. "Definitely a dream." She eyed the bathtub, then the showerhead. "It won't sprout slugs out of it, will it?"

"Of course not!"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I'm not showering for _Riddle. _He can be as much as a snake charmer as he wants, but I'm not getting pretty for _Him. _He's tortured me, killed my friends, and has done the worst to this world. I simply refuse to–"

"Miss Hermione Granger, if you want to live, you will do as Master wants you to," Yvette said firmly. She began laying out towels and tapping some switches for the water to run, while keeping in eye contact with Hermione. "He may have let you off easy this time, but Master will _not _be so lenient next time."

"I–"

"_Please, _Miss Hermione!" Yvette spun around abruptly to face her with blazing eyes. "You _must. _I do _not _want to watch girls being tortured daily! All you must do is lay low and you _can _and _will _survive. Do you want his fury to affect the other girls as well and create pain for them?"

Hermione's brown eyes widened as her skin paled perceptibly. "I… _you _would be punished too, wouldn't you?"

Yvette watched her carefully. "Yes, I would. As would the others, believe me." **(A/N: ****Here, I was listening to the Harry Potter Love Theme song, which is so beautiful and a bit sad. You can listen to this while reading the next part if you'd like!**_**)**_

The Gryffindor closed her eyes. So many people were being harmed; so many people were being killed. Reality seemed to catch up with her then, and tears began to form behind her closed eyes, a lump in her throat. She slumped down to the ground in defeat, burying her face in her hands. She hated that Yvette saw her then, weak and in pain, but she could not help herself. It hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt when she saw Ron's face behind her eyelids; it hurt to think of what Harry had to go through everyday and risk his life for the Wizarding World since the day he was born. It hurt to think of Parvati and Katie, all locked up in the dungeons below and screaming in pain. It hurt to think of Dumbledore, who was inevitably dead.

It hurt to think of Tom Riddle and how he could've been.

Tears began to streak down her cheeks, a broken sob making its way up her throat. Her chest heaved, and she felt comforting arms around her.

"Sh… it's going to be okay," Yvette whispered, brushing some hair away from Hermione's eyes. She seemed used to this: girls crying on their first day. The first week was always the hardest to go through. Hermione might be strong, but she was not steel. Yvette knew that Hermione probably suffered a lot, being a friend of Harry Potter.

Hermione just shook her head, letting the tears drip steadily down her cheeks. She sniffed, trying to calm and soothe her emotions. She couldn't. She wished that she could've told Ginny what a great friend she was, she wished that she could've told Harry that he was the strongest and best brother she could've ever had, and she could've told Ron… she could've told Ron that no matter what, she forgave him for everything.

Hermione also knew that Yvette would never understand. Yvette never said those foul things to her best friend; Yvette never saw the damage of the magnificent castle of Hogwarts.

She barely registered the fact that Yvette had already left the room to leave her with her own thoughts. As if on 'automatic', she slid out of the scrap of fabric that was a so-called 'dress' and sank into the warm waters of the bathtub, closing her eyes and imagining that she was in the Prefect bathroom, and the only thing she had to do later was help Harry and Ron with their homework. A sigh escaped her lips. That day felt so far away…

It was only when she decided that she had soaked in enough water that she felt the fresh tears on her face. Take in a shuddering breath, she quickly dried her tears and submerged from the water, taking another forest-green towel and drying herself off this time. Hermione brought the carefully folded dress and slid it on, the satin lightly grazing her skin. When she walked, the material lightly caressed her legs, only reaching her knee.

The door opened behind her, and, expecting Yvette to come through, she simply said, "Yvette," not bothering to turn around.

"Um… Yvette is currently preparing the Grand Room for the meeting," a different girl's voice came from behind her. Hermione whipped around to see a beautiful bronze-haired girl with sea-green eyes.

"Oh! Uh… sorry," Hermione said quickly, her mind racing. _"A meeting? Is it a Death Eater meeting?" _Keeping that thought at the edge of her mind, she plastered on a soft smile and said, "Er… Hi. I'm Hermione Granger."

The girl smiled. "And I'm Amourette Kristalinne. I take it that you came from Hogwarts? The other girls are really excited to meet you."

Hermione quickly decided that she liked her better than Yvette. Something about Yvette just made her feel a tad annoyed, as if Yvette managed to push all of her buttons.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We haven't had a new girl in a little while." Amourette cocked her head to one side. "Why don't you come with me? The girls are waiting in the common."

Hermione shrugged. "Sure." She followed the pretty girl out of the bedroom, blinking as she took in the sight. Torches lit the dark night: little specks of orange and yellow hues colored the hallways. The other Death Eaters were mere shadows on the walls, slinking away silently if need be. They sneered at her behind those faceless hoods, jeering as they went. In the beauty of Malfoy Manor, it was too easy to forget what lay ahead.

They reached a room not too far from the bedroom. It was cozy and warm, a fireplace at the center. The surprisingly scarlet carpet reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, and that sent a wistful pang into her heart.

"Hey," a girl spoke from the farthest end of the room. With brown hair and green eyes, her eyes looked mischievous and permanently scheming as she grinned at her. "I'm Vyxeria Melville. And don't go underestimating me because I'm a muggle. The girls all agree that I'm the most stupidly impulsive and curious girl in the world."

Hermione blinked in surprise. How well fitted in Vyxeria seemed, she mused. "I'm Hermione Granger," she answered. "From Hogwarts."

Vyxeria raised both eyebrows. "Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, muggle-born, and nearly top of Master's 'must-hunt-down' list. Yes, we know much about you from the rages Master goes through. You've spent nearly months in the dungeons, and all the while we were learning from Master's fits." All eleven girls shivered at the mention of that, and Hermione sensed that she did not want to know any more about this topic.

"Why don't we just go around introducing ourselves?" Amourette asked quietly after silence followed Vyxeria's words. She placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and steered her over to the couch, where Hermione took a seat next to Amourette and Vyxeria.

"I'm Seraythe Vontraevue," a girl spoke from beside Amourette. "They call me the 'intelligent and kind' one here, seeing as I speak for motivation." She grinned, curly dirty-blonde hair framing her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her smile faltered when she added on with saddened brown eyes, "I was captured because I am muggle-born, like you. Both of my parents were killed, and my sister is fleeing, I believe."

"You've already met me," Amourette smiled softly, "But I'm Amourette Kristalinne, muggle-born. I sent my parents on an extended vacation, and my brother and sister are in hiding. I _did _go to Beauxbatons, and I _did _enter the Goblet of Fire entering before, where I believe I saw you a long time ago."

Hermione's eyes widened. "_You _entered the Goblet of Fire selecting?"

Amourette smiled shyly. "I did. Mind you, I was a little bit glad when Fleur Delacour was chosen instead."

"I'm Amber LeVont," an aristocratic voice broke through Hermione's curiosity. She turned to see a beauty with brown hair and apparent blonde highlights as well as hazel eyes. "I'm the 'unofficial' leader of us girls. Call me proud, call me arrogant, but I'm still a hell of a leader. If it weren't for my muggle blood, I'd be strutting this place like Goddess Aphrodite."

The girls chuckled at this, seemingly used to Amber's theatrics. The list went on until the ten girls introduced themselves. There was Prere Aelle, who was shy and caring. Katrina Entity, who was indifferent and cool (and was Amber's bestie). Kriste Interge, who was having an emotional phase right now. Julianne Contrey. Vissaerie Benson. Nyrocael Millar.

That left the eleventh girl.

"Who's she?" Hermione murmured to Amourette, who she had come to like. There was a red-haired blue-green eyed girl who just sat quietly in the corner, glaring at the floor. The girl suddenly looked up, eyes smoldering.

"I am Kaitlyn Forsythe," she responded to Hermione, who thought that Kaitlyn could not hear her. "I come from the pureblooded ancient family of Forsythe. Magic seemingly has slipped out of my grip, leaving me a powerless squib to rot in this place." She stood up, narrowing her eyes at everyone, before stalking out of the room and slamming the door shut.

When silence ensued, it was Katrina who broke the silence.

"Creeper."

Everyone giggled except for Hermione and Amourette. Something about Kaitlyn seemed to make her significant; as if there was something there that was hurting her.

"Oh! We _have _to tell her about Yvette!" Julianne, gossip queen, immediately squealed.

"Ah, _Yvette Olayne," _Vyxeria said dramatically. "_Official _leader of us. And the one following _Him _around while kissing his arse. She really knows how to suck it up to the Death Eaters and all. And what is the _traumatic _experience of her lifetime? She's half-blooded, and because of her dear muggle-born supporting family, she has been chosen as our leader. Boo-hoo, I'm crying my eyes out," she said sarcastically.

Hermione was surprised of how normal everything seemed to these girls. Despite being captured and tortured with no limit, they still stood tall and strong, laughing and smiling. There was the top end of the girls, the 'more popular' ones, like any normal school would have. Amber was no doubt the leader, with Katrina and Vyxeria as her best friends. There was Nyrocael and Vissaerie, who were intelligent and cunning. There was Julianne, Seraythe, and Kriste, the over-dramatic girls. There was Amourette and Prere, the kind ones. Of course, there was Kaitlyn, the mysterious one, and Yvette… with the funnily inappropriate nickname as 'arse sucker'.

O

Life returned to what may be normal for Hermione Granger. Tom Riddle never called her to his room, unlike the other girls, who were called once in a while. In the meantime, they cleaned the rooms, dusted the portraits, and got the Manor ready for guests.

For the first time since her capture, Hermione felt truly happy. The girls had an unending supply of humor and giddiness, and they never questioned Hermione of her past. Hermione never crossed paths with her 'master' or anyone else who was familiar.

She never stopped thinking of Harry and Ron, though. She thought of them daily, nightly, and every single moment of her life was dedicated to feverishly hoping that they were okay.

But because of the other girls, she let her guard down. Hermione no longer felt fear in the manor, but she felt at home in the common room and the bedroom.

So she did not expect the hand that grabbed her wrists one day in a dark hall.

**Author's Notes: **Okay! Chapter thirteen! It certainly _was not _my favorite chapter. It was purely transitional for Hermione, and I promise that the next chapters will be much darker and have much more action! Oh, and I promise to include more of my dear Tom!

Just to list a couple of things about my story…

It is rated T and it will stay that way.

There is no fluffy romance in this dark story.

Hermione and Draco will _not ever _be together.

_There will be _love in between Tom and Hermione.

I will continue so long there are reviews, so…

_**Please review! **_


	14. Black Marks

**Disclaimer: **Guess what? I finally own 'Harry Potter'! …Not. I wish. Maybe J.K. Rowling will give me the credit for those books for my birthday.

**Author's Notes: **You know what? I like cliffhangers. Maybe I should put more on this story… _mwahahahaha!_ **OMG I LOVE YOU ALL WHO REVIEWED SO FRICKEN MUCH! **_**AND OTHER PEOPLE, PLEASE REVIEW! **_

To _azulaiii _(chapter 11)_: _Yes, the magic of cliffhangers, eh? Anyways, I'll say that you're right that it's not Voldie. He's too proud for that, I think!

To _azulaiii _(chapter 13): Thank you for reviewing! And please do continue to review! And don't worry: you're not the only one. _Grins._

To _queenreebee: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to review! _Hugs back. _

To _vswimming12: _Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are one of the three people who constantly review every chapter, now, what would I do without you? _Smiley face. _

To _Lookingfornirvana: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to review!

To _EYESviolet: 'More fishy sounds'. Danke. _Yes, yes, you can pretend all you want in your imaginary world, dear. How many more chapters? Um… I'm really not sure. Ten? Fifteen? I bet I'll be off… You _are _obsessed with 'hungry' Nott, aren't you?

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Cliffies!

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to do so! I _just _listened to those two songs! They were _awesome _and _hilarious! _

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you, thank you, thank you!

To _Burnedx2: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to review!

Hope you all like!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Yes, yes, evil me… ha I laughed when I read the 'wait for the computer after the homeless guy' thing. I hope that you get your Internet back soon! The secrets I have planned shall be revealed just about… now.

To _TomisHOT: _Thank you so much for reviewing! And please continue to review!

**Trust **_**–noun**_

**1. **_Reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence._

**2. **_Confident expectation of something; hope._

**3. **_The obligation or responsibility imposed on a person in whom confidence or authority is placed: a position of trust. _

**4. **_Charge, custody, or care_

_**-Verb**_

**5. **_To believe._

Hermione struggled furiously against the male's firm grip, but to no avail. Her captor was simply too strong. She knew that she could've screamed, but who would come to help her? The other Death Eaters? No, she would rather just one person to many.

She _knew _that she shouldn't have let her guard down. She _knew _that the Malfoy Manor would not be safe. How could she have thought otherwise? The Death Eaters didn't capture her just to pamper her like some princess or Dark Lady.

The person was squeezing too tightly on her wrist. Hermione was sure that there would be bruises all over her skin as her hand began numbing for loss of blood circulation. The pain increased, and she gritted her teeth, trying to pull away. She tugged and squirmed, but nothing seemed to work.

"_Let go!" _she hissed, writhing and trying to twist away from the person.

In one rough movement, she felt her being pushed against the wall, feeling a sharp crack of pain in her head. She groaned as the feeling spread all through her body, whimpering.

"Why, hello, _mudblood," _her captor growled into her ear.

Hermione froze. _Shit. _

It was Theodore Nott.

It probably would be considered pretty idiotic of her, but she feared Nott more than almost anything. _Almost _anything. She could face dementors, Greyback, and even keep her touch of defiance for Voldemort, but Nott somehow made all of her Gryffindor bravery drain away. Paling considerably, she bit her lip, a habit for when she was feeling stressful, and stared into his cold eyes.

He reached a hand forward to caress her neck, softly blowing on the tender skin, and, without warning, his hand pinched that area. Hard.

Hermione yelped as a burning sensation smothered her skin, feeling the blood rush to the area where she was just pinched. On instinct, she wanted to reach a hand up to cover her throat from any more damage, but only found that both hands were held above her head by one of Nott's hands.

"Are you afraid, mudblood?" he whispered, his hot breath tickling her skin.

She shook her head fervently. Hermione would _never _admit her fear. Not to this perverted, pathetic excuse for a–

"Theo," another familiar voice rang out behind him. Hermione felt as if she was plunged a thousand miles in freezing cold water. _"Not another," _she thought helplessly. _"Please…" _

Nott whirled around, releasing Hermione's arms non-too-ceremoniously. She winced as the blood rushed immediately to her bruised arms as she tried to back away ever so slowly.

"Blaise," Nott snarled. "You're interrupting."

Zabini's dark eyes watched every one of the Gryffindor's movements, narrowing when he saw her inching away. "Come here, Granger." He raised a finger and motioned for her to go towards him, dark eyebrows raised. _"Now." _

The reaction from the other Slytherin was explosive as he tensed, eyes narrowed. "_She's mine." _

Hermione shuddered and dared not to move. She faced an obvious dilemma. Nott was obviously volatile, and if she did not obey him, she would face the consequences of who-knows-what. But if she stayed…

Zabini seemed otherwise calm as he watched the two of them with an objective eye. "You heard the Dark Lord, Theo. I advise for you to _step back, _unless you'd like to feel the wrath of your own Lord."

"And what've you?"

"_I, _on the other hand, has been ordered by the Dark Lord to bring her to his chambers. _Immediately," _Zabini stressed the last word, eyes sparking and daring Nott to challenge him. "Come here, Granger."

Dully noting that Zabini called her 'Granger' rather than 'Mudblood', she slowly made her way past the imaginary line in between Zabini and Nott before darting to the ebony-skinned Slytherin's side, gnawing at her lip. Hermione knew that going to You-Know-Who would be no better than Nott himself, but at the moment… it seemed like the best thing to do anyways.

Nott, who's irritation was rolling off of his shoulders with fury, turned to Hermione, and in a sickeningly cloy voice, "Next time, _Hermione, _when the Dark Lord summons _me _to bring you to him… well, we just can't wait, can we?" He licked his lips slowly before disappearing into the shadows.

Hermione felt dread creeping towards her. _Next time. _Well, _next time, _she wouldn't be so lucky, now would she?

But of course, luck had no place in her when she was going to be in the presence of _Him, _as she resolved to call Riddle.

"Come, _quickly," _Zabini hissed, grabbing her wrist gently, much unlike Nott, who had nearly snapped her wrist in one single movement. His dark eyes prodded her to obey him, and the way he spoke to her made her follow him down another dark corridor. It was the same reason why she allowed Zabini to capture her in the Black Lake, as she now felt obliged to perhaps, _trust_ him.

He stopped abruptly in front of a carved picture on the wall. Hermione crashed straight into him, and in the tangle of limbs, she found herself caught before she smashed her head on the ground. Cursing and blushing furiously, she righted herself, muttering a 'sorry' to the dark-haired Slytherin.

If it weren't for how dire the situation was at the moment, Hermione would've sworn that amusement flashed across Zabini's face before he turned back to the carving. _"What was with Slytherins and stopping suddenly?" _she asked herself vaguely, remembering how Malfoy had stopped quickly when leading her out of the dungeons.

The carving was eloquent, every detail made to perfection. Carved out of white marble, it showed every inch and beauty of a unicorn, which symbolized immortality and purity. The magnificent beast showed intelligent eyes with a mane that Hermione could literally feel the softness of. It was truly exquisite.

Zabini tapped his wand on the horn of the unicorn, then the four hooves, before murmuring something under his breath that she did not catch. Before Hermione could wonder what he had said, however, the carving creaked open to reveal a room. With cobalt blue walls and a bronze carpet, she felt as if she had walked straight into Ravenclaw's common room as she inspected the grand statue of an eagle placed in the center of the room. Hermione turned to Zabini questioningly. Having been in Riddle's room before, she _knew _that this was not his chambers.

"We don't have much time," he rasped, the carving sliding close behind him. "This room is one of the many hidden chambers of Malfoy Manor. Draco had the liberty of showing me three of the hidden rooms, just in case I might be in the need of them."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at this. "What do you mean, 'we don't have much time'? Why are you helping me? What are you doing?"

Zabini fixed his pitch-black eyes on her brown ones, placing his white knuckles on the back of on the golden-leathered sofas. "Not all of us chose this life, Granger."

She stared at him.

He squeezed his eyes close for a moment, and after another beat of stark silence, he spoke quietly, as if fearing someone else may hear, "A pureblood's life is _not _easy. We aren't simply spoiled and rich. It isn't as royal as it seems." His eyes opened to reveal it's pained emotion.

Hermione's eyebrows met together. "Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, scared that if she spoke above one that her voice would break. "Why, Blaise Zabini? Do you want me to pity you, after all that's been done?"

"I want you to understand that we are misunderstood in many ways, Hermione."

Ah. There it was again, the first-name usage.

"And what are you gaining by doing so?"

Zabini swiveled around to stare at her. "I want to help you, Granger. I _want _the Light to win. But I can't do this unless you _trust _me. And, seeing as in your position, you don't. And I don't blame you." His declaration echoed eerily off of the walls of the hidden room, making it seem much more… powerful and decisive then Hermione would've liked. It was too persuading for her taste.

"How? And _why? _Why do you want the Light to win? It doesn't make sense!"

"It does if you would just listen to me," Zabini answered clutching his head as if in pain. He took her silence as a permission to continue. "We are _expected _to be dark, Hermione. Have you ever considered that we just _don't want to? _That we feel sympathy and pity when we torture people? Do you think that _every single pureblood _out there that came from another Death Eater _wants _the same thing?"

Hermione bit her lip. "So how are you going to go around to helping me? You do know the danger of your betrayal to your blood, family, and master, don't you? _You _have the Dark Mark."

"It's true that I can't help you not feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. It's true that I can't necessarily _protect _you from the Dark Lord lest I blow my cover. But I can give you information on how your bloody Gryffindors are doing. I can give you the layout of the countless Manors of us purebloods."

The third member of the Golden Trio was momentarily rendered speechless as she stared at him, mouth agape. "H-Harry and Ron?" she whispered. She crumpled to the ground, eyes wide. "Harry? Ron?" she repeated.

"Yes," Zabini said slowly, letting her soak up all of the possibilities that he had just presented her. "Potter and Weasley."

"Where are they? Are they alright? How…?" Hermione choked up at the end. "Are… are they alive?" Tears began blurring her vision. "Please…"

He watched her warily, letting her take a breather or two before he said, "I don't know where they are, and you better pray that I never do, or else the Dark Lord would know as well. Weasley and Potter are alive, same with Weaslette. They fled Hogwarts when the Death Eaters invaded the castle."

Hermione let out a breath of relief. "Were they hurt at all?" she whimpered. "Was anyone hurt?"

"They may have some bruises and scars, but nothing serious. Potter always had a scar anyhow," Zabini tried to lighten the mood. "I'm sure that they're fine, since the Dark Lord can't even track them down."

Hermione closed her eyes, chanting under her breath, "They're fine, they're fine. Harry and Ron are fine. They're alive…"

"Hermione?"

Her eyes snapped open.

"You can't let _anyone _know that I'm telling you this, or else you may lose your connection to the Wizarding World, alright?"

She nodded vigorously.

Zabini sighed before continuing. "The Dark Lord really did summon for you, though. Draco was actually sent to look for you. I just volunteered to bring you to him." He tapped his wand on the door, the carving creaking open once again. "Come."

Hermione's face had darkened drastically from what it was before. The thought of Riddle and Malfoy sent sparks of hate through her, easily giving her an adrenaline rush that propelled her to walk towards Zabini.

"Malfoy," she ground out murderously under her breath.

Having heard her, Zabini placed a careful hand on her shoulder, which made her whirl around in defense by instinct. "Draco isn't bad, Hermione. He's the same as me, just in denial."

"That just sounds like Professor Dumbledore when he told me that Riddle wasn't bad," Hermione hissed, her throat constricting as she thought of the pale and cold corpse of her former professor. "And de-Nile isn't the only damned river in Egypt."

Zabini rolled his eyes. "Tasteful joke, Granger." He grabbed her lower arm and pulled her towards the pale figure that stood waiting at the Grand Hall. Just the sight of him made her grit her teeth in anger.

"Took you long enough, Zabini," Malfoy hissed, not even touching Hermione as he spun around and marched up the stairs, every bit of him confident that she would follow.

Hermione stayed back, and only did she abide when Zabini prodded her to go. Snarling under her breath, she stomped up the stairs, ignoring the sneering looks from the Death Eaters. She followed him down the same hallways as before, and then finally came to the same French doors that Malfoy pushed open in a 'presentable' fashion.

"Ah, _Meus Leana," _Riddle stood with his back facing her, hands clasped behind him. He slowly revolved around to look at her with his perfect eyebrows raised ever so slightly, a dangerously soft smile curved onto his lips. "Do come in. Draco, dismissed."

Malfoy dipped his head slightly before backing away, silver eyes betraying nothing as he shut the doors behind him softly.

"I heard that you asked what _Meus Leana _means," the handsome boy turned his attention back to Hermione, who was fidgeting under his penetrating gaze. "Still your own curious self. How alike we are."

At this, Hermione snapped. Her face scrunched up and she balled her fists at her side. "We are _not _alike!" she hissed indignantly.

"I did not mean it as an insult, _Hermione," _Riddle chuckled, a cold sound that caused Hermione to shiver while his indifferent demeanor did not budge one bit. "You and I are not as different as it seems. How… interesting."

She responded with a growl. "Well it's an insult to _me!" _she flung out her words like knives. "And _do not _call me Hermione!"

Riddle walked over to the couch, sitting down comfortably and watching her with his hawk-like eyes. "Is that so?" He began twirling his wand in his fingers casually. "I am inclined to call you whatever I want to. Hermione _is _your given name, is it not? Once again, I warn you that my patience and mercy is limited, even in _your _case, _Meus Leana." _

The Gryffindor bit her lip. She did not want to suffer under his Cruciatus Curse again, that was for sure. The pain was bewildering and not an experience that she wanted to revisit.

"Now, where were we? Yes, _how are we alike? _Do you not lust for knowledge as I do? Do you not want to know _everything, _as I do?"

Hermione was silent. Every word that he said was true, of course.

"Have I rendered you speechless?"

"Certainly not!"

Riddle 'tsked' her as he shook his head slowly. "Lying does not behold of you, such a true-blooded Gryffindor you are. How intriguing I find it to study you. Such defiance… but too much of it and my wand just might _slip…" _

Hermione gritted her teeth at the thought of being 'studied' like an animal would be under a scrutinizing gaze of some scientist.

"What do you fight for?"

His blunt question caught he off guard. "'_What do you fight for?' What type of question is _that?" she thought harshly, narrowing her gaze on him. "What do you mean?"

"What do you fight for on the Light? Your family? Your friends? Your _blood? _Such pitiful things."

"Justice. I fight for justice. For rightness, for equality, and for peace, unlike you and your killing murderers," Hermione bit back.

"Peace? Do you believe that once you have eliminated me, you will have peace? There is always a dark to a light. Maybe one day, your dear hero, Potter, will misuse his power as the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die, or whatever he is known as these days."

"The Boy-Who-Lived."

"And will die soon enough, _Meus Leana. _So justice you fight for, yet it is not justice you gain? The end justifies the means."

Hermione took a deep breath, wondering what he was playing at. "I fight for honor."

"And where is your honor?"

She narrowed her eyes at his scornful tone, biting her lip in the process. "At the tip of my wand, waiting to be fought for."

"And where is your wand?"

"Stolen from _you. _It's something that I will gain back no matter what happens in the end. I _will _get my wand and _curse _you into bloody little pieces."

There was a silence after that, and Hermione wondered if she had gone too far. Every time she defied him, it was taking a life-risk. She was constantly wondering if she was taking to way too far and wondering when he would snap. But her fears only deepened when she saw a smug smirk on his face. This would be worse, she figured. _Much_ worse.

"Do you know why I have summoned you today?"

Hermione didn't answer. She just tried to kill him with her threatening glare, face scrunched up in mutiny as she just waited for him to continue.

"To brand you."

She froze. A distant memory came back to her…

"_Bring this girl to the others. Prepare her for the Branding. Now go, before I kill her," Riddle said harshly, pacing back and forth with narrowed eyes. _

_Prepare her for the Branding… prepare her for the Branding… prepare her–_

_Prepare her for the Branding. _

"Now, now," Riddle lightly cupped a cold hand around Hermione right cheek, bending down to be eye-level with her. She felt… strange. As if she was immersed in some form of a trance, staring into those cloaked eyes. Her muscles lost all movement, her breath stopped coming out of her mouth… _heck, _and her heart may as well have stopped beating in that one moment…

"I am going to make you _mine," _Riddle said, his cold breath lightly tickling her skin. His voice was melodious, smooth and flowing smoothly like a cadence. "The Brand, like a Dark Mark, is irreversible. Unable to be removed, unable to be hidden. _That _is how the other girls 'apparate' around the manor. Did you think that everyone was free to apparate when they wanted to?" he chuckled.

Her muscles suddenly sprang into action as she leapt away from his like a pissed cat. "_What?" _

Riddle smirked, lips curling. "Yes, you heard me. Of course, it isn't the Dark Mark." He snapped his fingers crisply and a green fire licked up from a silver plate that lay in on the table. "It's one of my own masterpieces."

Hermione began to back away, staring at him in horror. She had not expected this. She expected to be tortured, hit, maybe even raped, but not _this. _Even if the Light won, she would be forever be branded by _Voldemort. _

"Come here." He beckoned her with a pale finger, the green flames reflecting oddly in his eyes. When she did not react, he smirked and raised his wand. _"Imperio." _

_Come here right now. _

Hermione felt the command lay heavy with burden on her shoulder, pushing her forward, forcing her muscles to oblige. _No, no! _

_Come here right now. _

She slowly dragged her feet over to him, eyes wide with terror. _No! No! Turn around _right now, _Hermione Jean Granger! _

_Come here right now. _

Hermione suddenly stopped, trembling and shaking all over as she resisted the Unforgivable Curse. She held to her working mind, trying to separate what _she _wanted her body to do and what _he _wanted it to do.

_Come here __**right now. **_

Her body suddenly shot forward, stopping right in front of the silver plate. _No, no, no! _

Riddle released the curse, and somehow, Hermione did not find the strength within her to run anymore.

"My dear, are we going to go around with all three Unforgivables?" Riddle chuckled, taking her left forearm and inspecting it meticulously.

Hermione shivered at the underlying threat. She has felt the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. She has felt the potency of the Imperius Curse. That left…

That left the Killing Curse.

So simple, that curse seemed in comparison to the other two. No pain and no 'do this against your wishes'. Just _Avada Kedavra. _A simple yet deadly flash of green light. Then blackness.

Several times, Hermione had wondered what Death was like. How could you not be on Earth? How could you survive with no consciousness, no presence? Or worse… what if you were a mere sliver of a soul with no body that floated in blackness?

Hermione came back to reality and noticed that Riddle was still staring at her pale arm. With not warning and without further ado, he suddenly stuck it into the fire.

It was all she could do to not scream.

The feeling hurt just as much as _Crucio, _though it was just in her arm. The green flames licked greedily at her skin, and she was surprised to see that the flames didn't burn her. In fact, she was surprised to realize that she still _could _see and did not instantly black out from the pain.

When he finally let go of her arm, she immediately yanked it back, inspecting it for some type of damage. Hermione's jaw dropped at the tiny tattoo engraved onto her skin.

It was intricate and exquisite, this Mark. A small, silver snake with venomous red eyes curled around the elegant letters 'T. M. R.' _Tom Marvolo Riddle. _

A strange tingling feeling went through her body, wrapping around her limbs and bones. She peered curiously at the Mark, which was moving up her arm, to her horror and surprise. It went up higher and higher, until it finally stopped on the small portion of her neck. The tingling subsided, and she was finally conscious of the presence of the young Dark Lord beside her, watching her face that played the emotions of terror and fascination.

"Every Mark settles in the place that I belongs to settle in," Riddle smirked. "Apparently your Mark decided to settle in a place in which everyone can see."

_Shit. _

**Author's Notes: **Yay, a long chapter! Hope you all enjoyed! Give me your feedback, what did you think? **Please review! **


	15. Black Deaths

**Disclaimer: **Still don't and never will own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all so very much for your reviews! I will try to continue and persevere in updating this story as much as possible. In the mean time, _**please review! **_

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Thank you so very much! Really? Your favorite story? I'm so happy!

To _bbu: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to review!

To _carolina 25: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

To _azulaiii: _Yes, I _finally _got around to updating. And here's another one!

To _Lukro: _I know that you will not get around to reading this story anytime soon _('Lord! I can't read this anymore!')_, but in response to your… flame: Tom Riddle and Hermione is already an unrealistic pair, so technically, the story will not be so realistic either. I've already dedicated two, and soon to be more, chapters to Hermione being tortured. Is that not under the 'they'd be most likely be killed and tortured' part of your review? There will always be people who love a story and hate it, I'm sorry for your inconvenience for you to waste your time on this fanfiction. And, just to question it, if this story got 100 reviews, would it suddenly be better? Anyhow, thank you for your feedback.

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Since you requested to know where the Mark is on Hermione's neck, it will be revealed this chapter, just for you! _Smiley. _Thank you for your praises!

To _EYESviolet: _Unhealthy is right! And why do you like hungry people? Oh, wait, now that sounds like you like poor people… you know what? Never mind. Ha ha.

To _cataloo456: _Thank you so very much for reviewing! And please continue to do so!

To _vswimming12: _GAHH! So praising! Thank you so much! I literally smiled, and I'm not just saying that, but I literally _grinned _when I read your review!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Ha ha! There really isn't that much of the inside joke behind the word 'hungry', just that in every review, EYESviolet signs and writes that she loves 'hungry Nott', so, naturally, I keep it in there. Sorry, but this story will stay rated T (ha)… What levels you go through to read this! I'm flattered! Hope that your Internet will return soon!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _thinair: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

**Justice –**_**noun**_

**1.**_ The quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral rightness._

**2. **_The moral principle determining just conduct._

**3. **_The administering of deserved punishment or reward._

Hermione turned her angry brown eyes to his pale and handsome face. Now, even if the Light won, she would be forever branded by the enemy. Everyone would look down upon her. What would Ron say?

"_Hermione, you have fraternized with the enemy!"_

The brave Gryffindor swallowed her tears. The way Ron's voice resonated in her mind was so familiar, so like _Him. _Every little syllable, every hertz in the vibration of that voice matched so perfectly to Ron's that she had to look around to make sure that he was not standing there with arms out for a bear hug. And she would cry into his shoulder, say how she was so sorry, and how much she loved him…

But he was not there.

No warm blue eyes peered at her with concern and relief; no flaming red hair was in the emptiness before her. Nothing familiar greeted her except for the very much Slytherin room and the 'ought-to-die-soon' Dark Lord.

But she knew that Harry and Ron would understand. They would not judge her because of a dark tattoo on her skin. In fact, they certainly would understand. Harry and Ron would pester her with questions, and when they found out how much Riddle hurt her, they'd be spitting death threats on Voldemort's un-mourned grave.

That was if the Light won.

And if the Dark won…

Hermione shuddered at that thought. Life would be worse. _Much _worse. The Death Eaters would not kill her; no, that would be too blissful. They would torture her endlessly on the Cruciatus curse and use whatever they have left to learn of the Dark Arts. _That _was for sure.

The Dark _could not _win.

Riddle reached a hand out towards her neck, lightly caressing the area of skin in which the mark had settled itself on. Situated an inch away from her jaw line, the initials were twined right on her frantically beating pulse. It easily caught the eye, the silver snake reflecting off of the right side of her neck. She quivered under his cold touch.

"Do you wonder," Riddle murmured, cold breath washing over her skin, "Why I have not tortured you much in this manor?" He tipped his head to one side to get a better view of the mark.

Hermione squirmed slightly, but she found herself unable to move as his arms held her unyieldingly by his side. _Why he has not tortured me _much?_ What, was I supposed to get the Cruciatus everyday? Because I assure you, from where I come from, it is not a daily activity._ But she did not dare voice her thoughts, scared of what predicament would be brought onto her.

Nevertheless, Riddle continued. "It is because I prefer to torture the more important people in my own home. Have you ever heard of the Riddle House?"

Hermione froze, eyes flitting to his face. She had _indeed _heard of the Riddle House. Made of slate stone slabs, it stood on the top of a hill and was obscured partly by trees and branches. This was the only information in which she was 100% sure that it was true. The others, though, were doubted and dramatic.

_Flashback_

"_Miss Granger, little is known about the Riddle House. Many are too afraid to investigate the place, and there is most likely dark curses strewn all through the area. But there has been many theories of the House." Dumbledore's blue eyes peered at her with the usual twinkle in his eyes._

"_Theories, sir?"_

"_Yes, Miss Granger. The more dramatic ones are that in the tallest tower of the Riddle home, a young girl's sharp shrieks can be heard, wailing for eternity, and that there is one single lit window in the center of the House that represents the lost souls that haunt the area." _

_Hermione sniffed slightly at this. "If I may add… it sounds rather doubtful, Professor." _

"_Doubtful it is. Other theories hypothesize that mist forever enshrouds the House with its mysteries and horrors, and others say that the House should rather be known as a Manor instead, with the grand size and old-fashioned build." _

_End Flashback_

It seemed as if every insignificant detail of her life relayed back to the brighter times. Hermione wished that Dumbledore were here. Why did he die? _How _did he die? For such a powerful and accomplished wizard like himself, how was it possible for Professor Dumbledore to be sent tumbling down the Astronomy Tower? She resolved to remind herself to ask Zabini in the near future.

Remembering that Riddle was still watching her face carefully and assessing every single emotion that flitted across her face, she cleared her throat and nodded.

"I prefer to hear the delightful screams of pain in my own home so that all other terrors can sink into its walls, so that when I walk through the House I will be reminded of other's tortures and torments. One day, when your little Potter is dead, I will laugh as I walk through my home."

Hermione bit her lip. _Harry will win. _He must.

It was very weird, hearing Riddle speak of his 'home'. It had never occurred to her to think that the _bloody Dark Lord _ever thought of acquiring a home. Of course, the word 'home' to her was always connected to the Burrow, while for Him; it was probably a torturing station–

Ah, there it was again.

The Burrow.

The Weasleys.

Ron.

Ron's blue eyes, Ron's red hair, Ron's boisterous laugh, Ron's horrible eating habits, Ron's–

Suddenly, all trace of thought flew out of her mind as perfect lips lightly grazed the area where her mark had settled. She let out an involuntary sigh, and then bit her lip. She knew that she should push him away. She knew that she should kick him and then resolve to whatever punishment he gave her…

It repulsed her that she didn't exactly _want _to.

_I am not __**ever **__going to admit that I thought that. _

Suddenly, the soft lips were gone, and she was staring straight into the hard grey eyes of Riddle. A low chuckle had escaped his lips, and he was staring her with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Not good.

Hermione blinked as she tried to figure him out. Her mother had once told her that you could tell every single part of a person simply by looking deeply into their eyes.

But his eyes were completely impenetrable.

"Now, _Meus Leana," _he said soothingly. "Tell me… where is Harry Potter?"

Hermione gazed at him, and in her trance, she _almost _opened her mouth and told him straight out every single in her heart. It was at the last moment did she snap back into reality and straighten up, her heart clenching and her body shuddering, as she shook her head.

She knew where Harry and Ron would be. They would've left the Burrow, and then went to 12 Grimmauld Place to hide and perhaps plan with the Order. Just as that thought crossed her mind, Hermione quickly occluded her mind. _Just in case. _

Of course they would be in 12 Grimmauld Place. They would be relatively safe under the Fidelius Charm, and really, as safe as they can be. Knowing Harry, if there was even the slightest hint that Grimmauld Place has been revealed, he would immediately take Ron and flee into the forest, grabbing perhaps a portable magical tent and using the book that she had given them (that hopefully Ginny had passed on to Harry) to find powerful wards.

Yes, she knew her friends well.

"Now, now, Hermione," Riddle purred, "Be a good lioness and tell me, where is Harry Potter?"

Holy Mother of Merlin was she getting seduced by _Voldemort? _Hermione made the mistake of looking in his eyes. They were sincere, honest, and completely free of all Slytherin arrogance. In fact, they were _too _sincere and _too _honest. She immediately shook her head. "No."

His features changed abruptly, rearranging into a true look of irritation. His perfectly arched eyebrows met together, grey eyes narrowing at her as his flawless lips curled up slightly at the end. "I was hoping that I would have to come to this stage. _Crucio." _

With no time to prepare, Hermione immediately hissed, arching forward and ripping herself away from him as she panted for breath. The feeling of fire versus ice battled in her body, becoming all too familiar for her taste. But something about the Cruciatus Curse made it fresh and the same amount of painfulness every time, never less.

Wave after wave of sharp pain zapped through her body, pricking at her skin and ripping at her veins. She so badly wanted to scream… Just let go…

"_No, Hermione, no!" _Harry's voice vibrated through her, not soothing the pain, but somehow emboldening Hermione as she rocked over, clutching her head and whimpering to her knees. _"Be brave, Hermione, be brave!" _

"_Don't give that git what he wants!" _Ron joined his mate, a blurry picture of him appearing before Hermione's blackening vision. _"Come on, fight it out! I swear, if you don't scream, I'll buy you that rare book you wanted!" _

The situation was so bizarre that a pained and insane laugh popped out of her mouth before trailing away. She dared not open her mouth again, for fear that she would scream.

Fire lit every inch of her body; ice cracked her bones little by little. The sharp tang of blood entered her mouth as she swallowed uneasily, gritting her teeth and digging her nails into her palm, her hand dripping blood.

"_Mum… it hurts… make it s-stop…" _Hermione wallowed in her pain, crying out to her dead muggle mother. _"Dad…" _

It only made it hurt worse.

The thought of her deceased Mum and Dad made her cry, tears escaping the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes and trailing steadily down her cheeks. They had died because of her. The first sign that Voldemort was back to murdering people was when her parents died, the Dark Mark strewn across her house that was in ruins.

The pain was lifted, and it was as if a heavy burden was lifted from her shoulders. _"I wonder if that was how Atlas felt when the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders," _Hermione thought vaguely, thinking of how the Greek Titan had tried to trick Hercules into bearing the weight of the sky for him.

"You refuse to scream, I see," Riddle said calmly, looming over her as she curled up on the polished wooden ground. A moment of triumph flooded through her, but was replaced with dread when she saw a sneer forming on his mouth.

Riddle clasped his hand behind his back, turning away and beginning to circle the room like a hawk in search of his prey. "You see, I've studied you 'noble' Gryffindors for a little while. And from what I've observed, there is one thing in which is your weakest point, _Meus Leana." _

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Hermione tried to sound brave and sure, but her voice came out much to soft and trembled, as the after-effect of the Cruciatus Curse. Her entire fragile frame quivered as she tried to stand up.

"So sure, and so confident is what your words spell. But I believe otherwise," Riddle turned around and fixed his eyes on her. She felt as if she was bound to that gaze, unable to look away or even move. Finally, it was Riddle who began to walk around again, tearing his eyes away from her weak position.

"Kriste!" he snapped his fingers sharply.

With a _crack, _the girl appeared, bowing before him on her knees. She smiled at him as she stood, brushing invisible dust off of her dress.

Hermione remembered that Kriste Interge was the girl who was going through an emotional phase. Kriste mourned her parents and her dead boyfriend, as well as her younger sister, in which was found dead in the dungeons. And why she was smiling now, Hermione did not know.

"Master," Kriste greeted.

"I did not tell you that you could stand," Riddle snarled, and with a wave of his hand, she immediately fell to the ground as if there was some weight pressing her to the ground.

"M-Master… I'm sorry… I…"

Riddle turned around to face Hermione, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "These girls have been treated quite well before you came here. You see… I've been _preparing _for your arrival for the weeks you were in the dungeons. Now, the girls will be tortured. What is the belief? That the more luxury you get in the beginning the more it hurts under pain?"

Hermione's brown eyes turned round as she guessed his intent. "No! Don't–"

"Tell me where Potter is."

Hermione immediately bit her lip, backing away while shaking her head. No matter what happened, she _had _to protect this secret. She double-checked her mental barriers, and was rewarded with the stable walls around her mind.

Kriste was suddenly keeling over in pain, screaming as she doubled-over, clutching her stomach as her face distorted into a twist of pain. Her eyes unfocused, her body bent at strange angles. She immediately dropped to the ground, squirming and writhing.

But the screaming was worse.

Her sharp shouts and pleas for mercy echoed all through the room. Her sobs and tear-stained cheeks followed, and then came her pleas for death.

Hermione wanted to help her. Kriste did not deserve to suffer through such pain…

In other words, Kriste was suffering because of _her. _

_She _had the power to stop it; _she _had the power to help the poor undeserving girl.

But she couldn't.

Hermione knew that Harry could _not _be caught. Everyone could die but Harry. Harry was the Chosen One, and only he had the sliver of a chance to defeat Voldemort.

"PLEASE! PLEASE… KILL ME!" Kriste screeched, scratching her nails across her face as if trying to get out of her skin. "PLEASE!"

"_Where is Harry Potter?" _Riddle turned to the Gryffindor, a ghost of a smile on his face. He raised his eyebrows challengingly.

Hermione shook her head in despair. She knew that this had set Kriste's fate. Better death than pain.

Kriste was nearly delirium as Riddle casually flicked his wand, murmuring, _"Avada Kedavra." _A jet of bright green eyes shot towards the girl and relieved her of the pain as she suddenly halted, eyes bright with insanity, before her body fell to the ground with a muted _thud. _

Hermione immediately made her way towards the limp body, shakily removing some hair over Kriste's eyes. "Kriste…" she whispered, lightly framing Kriste's golden hair around her heart-shaped face. "I'm so sorry, so sorry. I-I promise… your death won't be in vain. We'll try as hard as we can to bring you justice." She added light pressure to Kriste's eyelids, closing them forever.

"You were brave, Kriste," Hermione murmured, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them again. "Now be happy with your mother and father and lover. Be happy with your sister and family. Rest in peace, Kriste Interge."

There was a low chuckle behind her, and Hermione whipped around, teeth bared and eyes narrowed as Riddle strolled over to her.

His layered dark eyes were watching her with something akin to amusement as he drew light circles on her bare shoulders.

"Congratulations, _Meus Leana. _Your first kill."

**Author's Notes: **Yes! Chapter fifteen is done! What did you think? Sorry that most of this was narrative. **Please review! **


	16. Black Pain

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you, thank you, and thank you all for your wonderful reviews! This story is officially more than 120 pages on Microsoft Word! Yay! Anyhow, my usual phrase: **please review! **

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Thank you! It is a bit disconcerting thinking of Riddle being fluffy and romantic and all (especially while writing this fic!). And yes, he… _kind of… _kisses Hermione's neck! (Tries to imagine myself writing smut… doesn't work)… My first flame, that one! I _do_ think that I handled it rather well, eh? Thank you for standing up for me! And Yay for Internet! (P.S. I like long reviews. _Smiley.). _

To _EYESviolet: _YOUR hot, hungry Death Eater? I think it's safe if I say that he's _mine_ (mwahahahaha!). I laughed out loud when I read that: 'you like your victims well fed'. Um… that's something that I can add to the list of what I know about you. Hm… the list is getting rather long, don't you think?

To _Rena Katsueki: _Thank you so much for reviewing! And please continue to do so! Yes, I _do _find a lot of that 'Hermione is actually this pureblood' stories out there… not that they aren't interesting or anything (_wink). _You are pretty observant to have noticed the pattern of titles and beginnings! I applaud you! Thank you for all of those praises!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Evil Riddle he is. I'm glad that you liked it! I am currently contemplating on whether or not Hermione can convince herself that she is not guilty, being the noble Gryffindor she is. Thank you for your praises!

To _cataloo456: _Thank you! I do weep for poor Hermione, being through all this pain. And well… Hermione's in pain because… well… of _me, _the evil author!

To _azulaiii: _'Intense' exactly describes it!

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Thank you! Ah… so happy right now.

To _vswimming12: _I _do _feel bad for Hermione and her pain. After all, the evil author right here created it (lol). Thank you for your praises!

**Guilt - _noun_**

**1. **_The face or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, especially against moral or penal law; culpability._

**2. **_A feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined. _

**3.** _Conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt. _

Hermione froze, eyes wide as she stared straight into those triumphant but otherwise emotionless cold grey eyes. _Her first kill. _

Of course, it wasn't literal. _She _wasn't the one who lifted her wand and said those two faithful words. _She _wasn't the one who was threatening her with another's life.

But _she _was the one who had the power to stop it.

It played like a video, replaying and pausing over and over again in her head in perfect clarity. Kriste, screaming and writhing in pain, raking her nails across her bloodied face. Riddle, raising his wand with indifference as two words formed on his perfect lips. Kriste, falling over in mid-motion, eyes blanking with no life. Riddle, who had was nearly glowing with satisfaction.

Hermione knew that somehow, she had made the right decision. Though a perfectly innocent life had been taken, she had chosen to save the Wizarding World rather than save her. Right decision or not, it still felt wrong. It still felt as if she had had a choice, and that she should've helped Kriste Interge.

Dumbledore's voice in her head suddenly decided to speak up. _"__Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."_

Oh, she did remember. Cedric had ended his own life, as had Kriste, because they had been on the deadly end of Riddle/Voldemort's wand.

She noted that she had listed 'Riddle' and 'Voldemort' as one person. It didn't quite matter anymore, did it? They both killed, loved another's pain, and adored any source of power. One may have a handsome face and is years younger, but in heart, they still were the same.

Hermione gritted her teeth and glowered at Riddle. How _dare _he insinuate such a vile and cruel thing about her? How _dare_ he say that she was a murderer? How _dare _he voice such words that meant that she was the same as that _merciless, deserved-to-die, snake? _

She wanted to slap him hard across his face right then and there. Or perhaps, she would deliver a punch, just like she had with Malfoy. They were both dark… and deserved the same punishment, right?

She wanted to lunge forward and leave that red handprint on his perfect face, marring it with her harsh hit. Screw the consequences.

Hermione was about to succeed in her resolve when she noticed something that rarely ever spelled true in Riddle's eyes. For in that one second, she saw a glint that revealed what he was planning to do. She saw how he _wanted _her to show her defiance because he received more than she gained by punishing her under the Cruciatus Curse.

And just like that, under her careful and strict observation, she snapped back together. Hermione stared at him, trying to look for a note of surprise in the eyes that had just unfolded, but found nothing.

_I either judged him wrong or, damn, he's a good actor. _Hermione stared at him, not opening her mouth to answer him.

"Go," Riddle waved his hand, "To your room." He sat down, legs stretched out in front of him and dark eyes appraising her almost lazily.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. Riddle was really an idiot, wasn't he? She wasn't going to walk out obediently, much less follow him or call him by 'Master' or 'My Lord'. She wouldn't lose her touch to–

There was an abrupt pull and the scene before her disappeared in a misty haze before a bright white flash brought her spiraling to reveal the shared bedroom of half of the girls.

She was an idiot, wasn't she?

Hermione sighed, biting her lip as she went. Of course. He had _branded _her, for Merlin's sake! Obviously, he could control where he wanted her to go. That was why Yvette and Kriste could easily 'apparate' to him just like a house-elf whenever he called their names.

"Hermione!" a girl with brown hair and green eyes ran over to her and enveloped her with a hug. Hermione went through the list of girls' names in her head and remembered that she was Vyxeria: a muggle and very impulsive.

Hermione returned the hug with slight confusion. "Vyxeria? Is there something wrong?" She pulled back, eyebrows knitted together as she watched the girl give her a wide grin.

"_Vyxeria," _Amber's commanding voice came out as a lazy drawl from the couch, "Thought that you may have died in the hallways from some Death Eaters' attack. Moments later, Kriste was called out. Vyxeria was so _devastated _that she nearly bust the door open to go looking for you."

Hermione peered around the petite girl to see the 'Queen-of-the-Girls (as Amber put it)' lounging around as if she were some cat. Hermione could easily see Amber as some well-spoiled cat, sleek fur and cougar-like muscles, legs that sprang her body her fifteen feet and claws glinting from sharpness. Oh yes, Amber was rather intimidating.

The Gryffindor thought of how _right _Vyxeria was, on the other hand. She was right on topic. Nott had attacked her, Zabini had saved her, and Riddle had tortured her. That counts as a Death Eater attacking her, does it not?

"Hey, have you seen Kriste by any chance?" Prere asked, eyes still wide with concern. She lightly placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione noted how… _fragile… _Prere looked. She wondered if she would be able to keep the secret of where Harry probably was if Riddle tortured Prere…

_No. _She couldn't think that way. She couldn't think of Prere writhing and twisting on the ground, face contorted with–

_No. _

"Hermione?" Prere shook her slightly, her feather-touch barely making Hermione move.

All of the girls' attentions were on her now, some with suspicious looks, others with anxious ones, while still others with carefree smiles.

Hermione gulped slightly, gnawing on her lip again. "Guys… when I walked in the hallway… I… I got summoned by Riddle."

"Master," all of the girls corrected automatically. There was a beat of silence then, and it wasn't until they all understood what she was talking about did they react otherwise.

"What? You're so lucky! I heard from one of the house-elves that he was in a good mood today…"

"Really? What'd he say?"

"Isn't he such a charmer?"

"Oh! Tell me about it! Don't leave one detail out!"

"Shut. Up." This was from Amber, obviously. All of the girls fell into silence immediately. Amber seemed to uncoil from her position, elegantly slipping into a sitting position. "What did he do to you, then? How much blood did you lose?"

All of the girls turned to gape at Amber, eyes confused as a moment of understanding passed in between Amber and Hermione.

"None, really. Just the Cruciatus Curse, which draws no blood," Hermione tried to say it lightly, but she ended up choking near the end. _Just the Cruciatus Curse. _

Amber nodded slowly, closing her eyes and sitting there in stillness, looking like a statue of a goddess in intense thought.

It was Julianne who finally broke the silence. "I don't get it. He's always been nice to us. Why would he torture you? The only instance that he harmed us was when he was waiting for you…"

Another silence. Then:

"Hermione," Vissaerie had her eyes narrowed dangerously. "He's not going to treat us well anymore, is he." Not a question.

She shook her head slowly.

Another pause.

"Where… Where is Kriste?" Julianne whispered, looking like a scared rabbit as she trembled. She feared the answer. Hell, Hermione feared the answer herself.

Hermione took a deep breath, before saying super quickly, "Riddle wanted me to tell him where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley was, and I obviously couldn't do that or else the whole Wizarding World would be in trouble, and so he tortured me to try to make me tell him, though since I didn't tell him even after the Cruciatus Curse he called for Kriste and tortured her instead… It was so hard, but it had to be done… and then he… he _k-killed… _oh, I'm so sorry…" By the end of that sentence, she was in tears, Amourette's arms around her and soothing her while everyone sat in cold, rigid silence.

"You killed Kriste," Katrina said monotonously. Her eyes were blazing with anger and her entire body had stiffened in taking in this particular bit of news. "It's your fault Kriste's dead."

"No! I… it was for–"

"You don't give _crap _for the damned Wizarding World!" Julianne shrieked, completely covering Katrina's reply. "Kriste was my _best friend! You killed her! _If _you _hadn't come here, then Master would've continued caring for us! All of us are going to die!"

"Please, I–"

Vyxeria cut her off this time. "I can't believe you just let her die," she hissed, standing up. "She was already in emotional trauma. What did you think, that she was better off dead anyhow?"

"But I–"

"I can't stand in the same room as a murderer," Seraythe stood up, flashing a warning look at Hermione as she did. Katrina, Julianne, Vyxeria, and Nyrocael all followed. She stalked out with the line of girls behind her.

Nyrocael paused at the door, turning around to face Hermione. But just as she felt a little bit of hope from the intelligent girl, Nyrocael narrowed her eyes coldly. "Just because you didn't directly kill her doesn't mean that you didn't kill her in mind. It's because of _you _that we are soon going to suffer. I thought that you were somewhat of a role model when you arrived. Suppose I was wrong." Nyrocael slid her freezing cold stare toward Vissaerie, her best friend, who was still standing by Hermione's side. "You'll join me when you've come to your senses, Vissaerie." And with that, she left.

Hermione broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into Amourette's shoulder, staining the silky material of the girl's dress. But she couldn't be bothered with manners now. She full out cried, feeling her heart break as she heard the girls' words echo over and over again in her head.

Ten minutes later, Amourette was lightly dabbing her face with a soft tissue, cooing words of comfort as she tried to wipe away the tears plastered to Hermione's face. The tears had stopped coming after a while, though her breaths were shaky and the occasional sniffle still accompanied Hermione's speech.

Hermione surveyed the room, looking around at the girls who were supporting her. Vissaerie, Amourette, Prere, and… Amber?

Amber noticed her calculating look and snorted, leaning back and crossing her slim ankles. "I'm not just some Beauty Queen without a history, girlie," she hissed, rolling her eyes.

Hermione sniffed again before asking the obvious question. "What are you doing here, supporting me? Why aren't you with your friends?"

Amber sat up at this, placing her feet that were covered with silver strap heels carefully down on the floor as if they were made of crystal before walking over to her. "Listen, you little turtle," she said slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old kid. "I've been tortured countlessly by Master. He delights in watching _me _suffer because of how it represents traitors. I'm muggleborn, yes, but if it weren't for my great-great grandfather, who decided to take some muggleborn witch as his wife, I'd be a pureblood. Since then, every descendent of my family has been a muggleborn. Am I clear?"

"Did you just call me a turtle?" Hermione asked dryly, her voice coming out hoarsely as she spoke.

Amber snorted, a fresh smirk on her face. "Yes, I did. Because you're not as strong as other's think, behind that shell. Trust me, I use the same technique." She turned around and returned to the white daybed, sighing softly as she lay down comfortably.

"You shouldn't call him 'Master'," Hermione whispered softly.

"What else do I call him, Flower?" Amber cracked an eye open irritably.

Hermione bit her lip. "I call him 'Riddle' to prove that just because I have some tattoo on my arm, I'm not his. And never will be."

The other girl's answer was brief and slightly dismissive as Amber nodded curtly, closing her eyes again.

Prere gave Hermione a comforting look while Vissaerie murmured, "Don't worry. I won't join Nyrocael. She's… well, they are all just angry. Don't believe what they said. We understand."

Amourette nodded in agreement.

There was suddenly a sharp _crack, _and this revealed Yvette and the other girls who were lined up behind her. Hermione stiffened, feeling a slightly painful squeeze in her heart as she saw their stone-cold faces.

All except Yvette, of course.

Yvette smiled (probably an artificial business smile too) as she addressed all the girls in the room. "We are to move to the Riddle House right now. You will all link arms, and when I join this chain, we will 'apparate' to the area right in front of the Riddle House, where we must walk in with Master's permission."

There were some sniggers from the girls, mocking Yvette behind her back by saying in low voices, "'With Master's permission'. Of course, she's dealt with that part."

Katrina and Vyxeria immediately rushed around Amber, forming a two-person wall in between their leader and Hermione as if fearing that Amber would catch some disease. Amber waved them off airily, hooking her thin arms around theirs and offering Hermione a challenging eyebrow-raise.

Hermione just looked away, intertwining her arms with Amourette and Prere's, waiting until all of the girls had formed a circle. She saw Kaitlyn slink in stealthily from the shadows and lightly touch Amourette's arm. Yvette nodded jerkily at all of the girls before they spun away from the Malfoy Manor.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, yes, short chapter, I know. And nothing _too_ exciting happens in here, but it's still an update, no? Now I ask you: who is your favorite character (though I'm sure I know some of yours already… _ahem… _EYESviolet…)?

_What did you think of this chapter? Did you like it? Now click that pretty button right there… _**PLEASE REVIEW! **


	17. Black Hearts

**Disclaimer: **Really? You still didn't notice that I'm not J.K. Rowling yet? Well… I'm not. Don't own Harry Potter.

**Author's Notes: **Chapter seventeen is up! I do think that this is one of the most committed things I've ever done in my life (yes, that's a bit pathetic, but still)! Hope you like this chapter!

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

To _EYESviolet: _I was having a slow day, and when I saw how you wrote 'dissention among the ranks', it took me a full minute to understand what it meant. I know, it's sad, really (ha). _Anyhow, _I do think that you've made your point on who's your favorite character: little goldie-locked Drakie (I'm guess I just insulted him right there). You _would _like Amber, dearest. Exquisite? Really? How… exquisite… _Guess what? _Derek used the word 'snazzy' in his student council speech!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! You really do spoil me with praises. I love Hermione too!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Poor, poor Hermione. Evil, evil Tom. Ha, Hermione probably would never call Riddle 'rational' (especially in her case), but _I, _on the other hand, do agree with you on the decision making part… Aw… I look forward to your reviews too! And oh lord, I _do_ hate condescending people. It's one thing that really sets me off… The song is _perfect! _Now all I have to do is figure out when to use it (since lately, I've changed to using definitions for 'Part Two'). Thank you!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Thank you! I really did pity Hermione as well. She needs at least some type of support or else she'd break down.

To _azulaiii: _Thank you! Most people agree with you on that.

To _MidnightThief15_: Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so! You don't like any of the girls? Not even the girls who support Hermione? Well, I suppose it's understandable. I would hate to be in Hermione's position right now. The romance part will have to go _really _slowly (seeing as how unrealistic it is). Thank you so much!

**Mysterious – **_**adj. **_

**1.**_ Full of, characterized by, or involving mystery. _

**2.**_ Of obscure nature, meaning, origin, etc._

**3. **_Implying or suggesting a mystery_

Colors whirled around her, wind lashing at her body so harshly that it began to hurt. Where was up? Where was down? Hermione could see nothing else but color, streaks of blues and greys and whites: all that reminded her of the coming cold winter that had arrived.

The spinning finally stopped, much to Hermione's relief. She hated being in the mercy of others, ironically enough, as she was in the controlling hands of You-Know-Who at the moment. But then again, the entire existence of life was ironic, was it not? How somehow, there had been a higher being who decided to create life to make the world better, yet now, it seemed as if those lives were now trying to destroy one another?

_Life made no sense. _

That was one thing that Hermione had resolved on, despite it being simply a theory in many people's eyes. Life _did _make no sense. There is simply not a meaning for everything: why did people die? Why do people hurt? Why do people live?

And, seeing as from those three question, it always made it seem as if _people _were the confusing parts of life. Hermione agreed. People were unpredictable and unique in every way. And what was that that her mother had told her? Yes, _people fear the unknown. _And other beings were completely and irrevocably unknown to her.

Hermione settled on peering around cautiously at her setting. Just 30 meters away stood the Riddle House. It wasn't nearly as proud and overly magnificent as the Malfoy Manor was, but it certainly had certain elegance and mystery hovering over the 'haven'. Steely grey stone slabs were built medieval style, holding strength and protection to its owners. Unlike the polished white marble of the Malfoy Manor, it was rather dismissive in Hermione's perspective. The tall emerald-green spruce trees loomed over the area, creating a desired enclosed effect that sent fearful shivers down her back. Like theory, there was a dense fog settling over the House like a cloak, smothering her all the while.

Hermione did not know if it was simply the rain or if the fog was always there, as she had heard from Professor Dumbledore. And, like another rumor, there was one sole eerie yellow light that flickered on tall tower in the center of the house. She shuddered, hoping that the light did not symbolize the 'lost haunted souls of the house'.

The rain lightly pecked at Hermione's skin, soft and dainty, as the water drizzled down and created a misty aura to her vision. The wind caressed across her skin, merely a soft breeze, as if to calm her from what lay ahead, but nevertheless, it was cold, and in fact, it was freezing in Hermione's sense. Winter had come.

"How curious." This was Yvette. "I suppose that Master may be late… or rather, everyone is purely early. We'll just have to wait for him to arrive, lest you suffer from walking straight into the House without granted permission."

The girls snickered. They knew that they were on time: Yvette would've made sure of that. It was as if Riddle was some royal leader: _No, I am not late. Everyone's just early. _

Of course, the other girls, save for Amber LeVont, did not know of Riddle's wrath. The most they've ever suffered were some harsh words, or a bruise at most… at least, at the moment.

Hermione could feel the dark magic and curses thrumming in the air before her, and she feared what would happen if she actually _did _step into the House without permission. The magic whirled all around them already, so close that she could hear it humming in the air around her.

Hermione felt a light tap on her shoulder, and she immediately whirled around, posed for attack, on reflex. She may have no wand, but she wouldn't do to be off of her guard. When she saw that it was only Amourette's concerned face, Hermione immediately relaxed all muscles to erase the evidence that she almost attacked her friend.

Amourette gave her a hesitant smile. "Here," she handed her a white cloak. It was made of soft silver-white fur, shimmering in the minimal light of the day. "I thought that you'd need a cloak. This is the traveling cloak that Master prepared for you."

Hermione accepted it graciously, trying to block out the last four words and persuading herself that it was someone else who had the decency to think of her. "Thank you," she answered, taking the cloak gingerly before slipping it around her shoulders. Warmth immediately encased her, the cloak protecting her from all coldness or breeze. Hermione sighed, satisfied, and noticed that all the other girls were taking out their cloaks as well.

"Amourette?"

"Yes?"

"Why… why is my cloak the only white one? Everyone else has black cloaks," Hermione whispered, feeling self-conscious as she did. It was true. Everyone had identical black wear that looked much too alike to a Death Eater's for her liking.

Amourette glanced at her before slipping on her own cloak. "Master… Master set it out for you. I don't know why he made yours different." Her eyes flickered away, trained on something else and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Amourette." Hermione knew when someone lied to her (other than some Slytherins, of course). The girl was refusing to meet her gaze, easily helping Hermione detect the lie. Was it that serious? "Amourette, please tell me."

The pretty girl just looked away, sighing in the process.

"Please?"

Amourette turned her eyes towards Hermione's, expression full of reluctance. She shook her head slowly, sighing again. "I cannot, Hermione. I am so sorry."

Slightly frustrated and even more curious than before as she watched Amourette's eyes begin to show panic. She felt bad for pushing the kind girl, but if this was about Riddle, she really wanted to know. "Why can you not tell me? What did Riddle do to you?"

"He didn't do anything," Amourette answered softly.

"Why can you not tell me then?" Hermione repeated, peering carefully at her changing expressions. "I need to know."

Amourette bit her lip, something that Hermione did so much that she felt inclined to laugh at the absurdity of her observations. But she refrained from doing so, knowing that Amourette faced conflict and the only way she could convince Amourette of otherwise was to stay silent. Hermione counted the seconds of the pause, listening to the steady drips of rain on the mini pond to her left and the soft murmur of the other girls, huddling together for body warmth.

"I don't want you to hurt more than you already do," Amourette whispered. "But if you insist… I…"

Hermione instantly brightened. "Yes?"

The girl sighed for the third time. "Hermione, I've heard you break down in the bathroom and cry into your pillow at night. Will this actually help?"

"I want to know."

Amourette nodded slowly. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"I know."

"If you insist…" Amourette looked up, her hair beginning to cinch together from the rain. "Riddle wanted you to wear something different to show how you are different from the others."

Hermione's thin eyebrows knitted together. _How was this hurtful? _

As if reading her mind, Amourette shook her head quickly. "He wantsto hurt you _very_ badly, Hermione. He doesn't just want you to cry and feel pain; he wants you to break; to shatter! Think the way a Slytherin thinks. If you were him, what would you do to make sure that your opponent suffers the most?"

Hermione blinked, staring at her reflection in the water. Off-tracked slightly, she stared at herself. The girl in that reflection was different from the one in fifth year, she decided. The fifth year version of Hermione Granger cared the most about her grades, friends, and family. She wanted Harry and Ron to be happy and love her, and she wanted her family to be all right. She wanted Professor McGonagall to comment on how well she was doing, and hell, she was still looking forward to being Head Girl in seventh year!

But this version was different. Hermione Granger wasn't the same gullible, naïve, and blissfully unaware girl anymore. She wasn't the same kind, caring, and soft person. No, this girl was hard, cold, and untrusting. Everything that happened and every action she did had been planned after her capture. The most dominant characteristic was her defiance; her pride. Her biggest fear was if Harry or Ron got caught. Her biggest pain was the Cruciatus curse. Her biggest opponent was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

For some odd reason, she found herself weaker than before. Perhaps it was because the circumstances now were so extreme and so hard to defeat. But the old Hermione wouldn't have stood for this. She would be planning her escape.

This Hermione felt the miniscule bit of the beginning of defeat.

She stared at her hardened features, her blank eyes, and her angled face bones. She wasn't particularly pretty, she reasoned, but that doesn't even matter anymore, does it? Who would she be beautiful for? Riddle? Malfoy? _Nott? _

Hermione snorted. How likely.

"Hermione?" Amourette's soft voice cut through her thoughts sharply, bringing her attention away from her changed features to the girl beside her. How could Amourette manage to have such a kind and caring face in this place?

Oh, right. Riddle didn't torture them. Yet. For now that _she _was here, they would be writhing in front of his wand every day.

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked. "Yes?"

"Are you alright? Did I say something?" Amourette cocked her head to one side. "You just stood there, staring at the water blankly… are you… are you alright?"

_Was _she all right? _Was she all right? _In this god-forsaken place, _was she all right? _

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah… what was your question again?"

Amourette surveyed her carefully. "Think like a Slytherin. If you were Riddle, what would you do to make your opponent suffer the most?"

Hermione raised her face to the sky, letting the rain drench her face with water. If she were a Slytherin…

Hermione had heard that the way to break someone wasn't killing the person. Death was peaceful and oblivious to the outside world, it could only be so great to die instead of torture.

But that brought her straight to the point. Torture. Torture would certainly hurt more than Death, would it not?

What hurt more than the Cruciatus Curse? Hermione didn't think that it was possible. It was called the _Cruciatus _Curse for a goddamned reason.

_Use your intellect. Understand people. _

Just hearing the little voice in her head reminded her of Harry and Ron immediately. That voice hadn't spoken up anytime soon. She missed it.

Tears were brought to her eyes.

Hermione knew how to break someone.

What she was scared of the most was the unknown. What humans were can be defined as the unknown. _What hurt the most was the unknown._

She did not know of how Harry and Ron were fairing. She did not know if they would ever get caught, and oh, the dread that they may! It hurt to think of them trying to live in peace in Grimmauld Place, or if they had fled the area, it hurt to think of them being outside in the winter-cold season, shivering in a magically portable tent.

Her emotions were the key to break her.

"You got it," Amourette whispered. Her eyes had been focused on Hermione the entire time, watching as her expression changed from confusion, to fear of pain, to the most heartbreaking and defeated expression in the world.

Hermione nodded silently, letting more tears leak out of her closed eyes. She got it. Riddle had taken her away from her best friends, and then presented her with new ones. Now, he had taken them away again. He had broken her. Twice.

To add it on with the Cruciatus Curse and with the painful voices in her head, she realized how vulnerable she was. How silly of her to have thought that defiance made her strong!

Now, defiance was all she had left.

"I'll leave you alone with your thoughts," Amourette said softly. "Please, Hermione. Be strong for all of us." Hermione heard the soft rustle as Amourette moved away, the slightest crunch under the girl's foot from the frost on the grass.

Hermione opened her pained brown eyes. For some odd reason, she did not want to be alone this time. She had been alone for too long. Alone, she had been captured. Alone, she had trusted Zabini. Alone, she had fought against Riddle with all her might. Now, she wanted someone to _understand. _

Her eyes searched the clearing. Only Vissaerie, Amber, Amourette, and Prere actually would talk to her, and Amber was certainly no option. Amber would be the last person she would think of that would be an antidote to pain.

Hermione's eyes landed on a still figure, just as the edge of the area. She was sitting there, legs crossed, on a boulder, eyes closed in peace and serenity and body completely still of motion. Hermione wouldn't have noticed her if not for her observations.

She made her way there quickly so that she would not change her mind. She had never approached Kaitlyn Forsythe after the day of her cold greeting. Kaitlyn would sometimes melt into the picture before slinking away, as fast as a person could go.

"Sit." Kaitlyn's lips had barely moved as the warm air billowed out of her mouth, forming little clouds. Her eyes did not open.

Hermione obliged, curious once again. Curiosity was probably her fatal flaw. But at the moment, she decided that it was fine for her to simply sit next to Kaitlyn.

They sat in silence for another minute before Kaitlyn finally opened her startling turquoise eyes.

"You found out how he was going to break you."

It was no question. Hermione leaned back, nodding slightly as she did.

"Are you afraid?"

Startled at this question, Hermione took a few seconds before answering hesitantly. "I think so. Time doesn't heal everything. And not everything heals."

Another couple of beats of silence. "You are hesitant as you say this. Why?"

"I… I don't think I understand myself anymore. I can't define what is right and what is wrong anymore. I don't even know myself!" Hermione wrung her hands, frustrated, staring once again at her reflection on the crystal clear water. She wondered why she was pouring herself out to Kaitlyn of all people, someone she barely knew. She had always shown strength in front of everyone else. Just not Kaitlyn. Somehow, she thought that Kaitlyn knew the difference already.

"That is how he will break you. You must understand yourself. You must know your goal." Pause. "I went through the same thing."

Hermione peered at her and nodded for her to go on.

The red-haired girl seemed slightly more aware as she shared her story. Cautious and deliberate, that's what described her. Hermione admired Kaitlyn for this strength.

"I am a pureblood. Born and raised in the House of Forsythe, I was honored as any of the Malfoys and Lestranges are amongst the purebloods." Kaitlyn pursed her lips. "But at the age of eleven, my magic still had not come. No sign of accidentals. No sign of even a speck of ability."

Hermione nodded. This she knew. Kaitlyn had said that she was a squib.

"My parents were outraged. They beat me. Said how I was such a defective child, how I was such a shame to the family. But the Ministry and the law prevented them from killing me, and they did not have enough of a reason to disinherit me, despite their pureblood power."

Hermione's brown eyes widened. What type of parent would disinherit their own child because they did not have magic? She vaguely remembered her encounter with Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley long ago. If all pureblooded parents were like _that… _well, she shouldn't be that surprised. She wondered how Zabini and Malfoy lived their childhood. Not that she _should _care…

"They finally found their opportunity a couple of months ago. The Dark Lord had finally risen again. He needed unworthy slaves for a 'worthy' cause. My _parents –_" she spat that word – "volunteered _me _for the cause. So much for a loving childhood. Right then, I began to doubt my sole existence. Was I worthy? Why should I live if I had no magic, if I were as weak as a muggle, despite my pure blood?"

"Like you, I did not know myself anymore. You cannot do that. You must find yourself, as I have now."

Hermione nodded slowly. She understood why Kaitlyn distanced herself from everyone else now. She finally understood how Kaitlyn could remain so unperturbed after their insults at her. Because Kaitlyn was so careful with her emotions, she could be hurt.

"But should I–"

"Do not cut yourself off of others," Kaitlyn interrupted, knowing what Hermione was thinking. "That decision was for me alone. I suffer the consequences."

O _Malfoy Manor _O

"My Lord," the chorused whispers were quiet and respectful as the room of black-cloaked Death Eaters bowed before their leader.

Riddle stalked to his throne, lips set in a sneer as he walked down the middle aisle. In front of him was a silver chair, set with emeralds and snakes, completed with the Dark Mark raised for all to see.

He sat down comfortably, raising a silver chalice to his lips and lightly taking a sip. The liquid neatly slid down his throat as he inspected the goblet, smirking as he saw the snakes engraved on the handle of the chalice as well as the ancient runes carved on the cup itself. Objects radiated knowledge, great knowledge that would help him become even more powerful than ever.

"Rise." His cold voice echoed eerily all over the room, and the Death Eaters shuffled to their feet, heads still bowed respectfully.

"Lucius, report."

The white-blonde man stood up, icy grey eyes flashing before he nodded at his Lord with deep deference. "Yes, My Lord." He stepped up, taking down his hood slowly. "Harry Potter and the blood-traitor, Weasley, were traced starting at 12 Grimmauld Place."

"And what is the significance of 12 Grimmauld Place?"

"It is the House of Black, My Lord," Lucius answered.

Satisfied with this answer, Riddle waved him on with a passive look on his perfectly carved face.

"We have found that the House was laced with the Fidelius Charm, and was recently broken when a fellow Death Eater grabbed Potter as he was apparating out of the Ministry, landing him in front of Grimmauld Place. Potter was Secret Keeper, and we have inference that Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper before."

Riddle chuckled, a chill-inducing scary sound, as he thought of how the great Dumbledore had died on his hands. Who would've ever thought. "That was the haven of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"And how is our hold on the Ministry?"

"It is all well, My Lord. We have complete grasp over the situation."

Riddle nodded sharply. "Good, good. Carry on with your report."

"Potter and Weasley is on the run at the moment, My Lord. But without Hermione Granger, we are highly sure that the two dumb brutes would be found soon."

Riddle's eyes snapped open abruptly, perfect lips curling into a snarl. "Do not underestimate Harry Potter and his dumb luck. I want them captured and I want that soon. If I find that this is not being done because of some idiotic assumption of yours, Lucius, then you will find your own son in a higher position than you!"

Lucius immediately bowed his head. "I apologize, My Lord. I plead for forgiveness."

"You will be forgiven when you capture Potter!" was his master's answer.

"Yes, My Lord. Thank you, My Lord."

"And the rest of the report?" Riddle tapped his fingers impatiently.

"Potter and Weasley are most likely under wards and traveling via night, My Lord. What more, other than the situation of Potter, is that we have wiped out most of the northern side of London. That is all, My Lord."

"Dismissed."

Lucius bowed his head and backed up to his place in the mass of black cloaks.

Riddle scanned his followers, looking for a hesitating person, for some sense of betrayal. He found none, though he always kept his suspicion-list: just in case.

"Is there anything in which you would like to address to me?" the Dark Lord asked, surveying for someone to move.

One figure stepped forward. Theodore Nott.

"My Lord," he bowed before standing up once again, removing his hood as the elder Malfoy had.

"State what you feel is needed to be addressed, Nott." Riddle curled his lip dangerously, staring at the adolescent. There was no doubt that Nott could kill and torture, and he certainly had potential for dark curses. The only thing that he doubted of Theodore Nott was his intellect. As far as he had surveyed, Theodore Nott did not move on cunningness and thought, but on impulse and want. Was Nott capable of being a follower in this case?

"My Lord, I wish to inquire if I would have the pleasure of borrowing the mudblood."

So blunt. Riddle narrowed his eyes, grey eyes darkening into a dangerous black color. "You address those below you as if you need to show who is in charge. Those who are truly worthy of award are those who can show blood status with no need to prove it."

Theo immediately lowered his head. "I apologize, My Lord. I wish to inquire if I would have the pleasure of borrowing _Hermione Granger_ for a fortnight."

"For what?"

"I would like to put Granger in her place, My Lord. She is a proud creature."

Riddle stood up, jaw clenching as the shadows of his face disappeared to reveal his perfect features. "Are you insinuating that I am, dare I mention, _incompetent, _in putting _Hermione _in her place?"

"No, no! My Lord, you… you misunderstood my intentions," Nott was cowering now, backing away as Riddle advanced.

In one moment, Nott was walking back. In another, he was on the ground, writhing and screaming with pain.

"Now, _Theodore Nott," _Riddle laughed, watching Nott scream. His eyes had the manic red gleam in them, something that hadn't happened in a while now. "Did I really misunderstand your intentions?"

"M-My Lord! P-P-Please!" Nott begged as he grabbed his head with his hands, eyes bloodshot as his body flailed around like a fish out of water.

"I will make myself _perfectly clear," _Riddle snarled as he turned to address everyone in the room. To his satisfaction, every Death Eater showed trepidation at their angry leader. "Hermione Granger is _mine _to torture. You will not aim your wand at her; you will not _touch _her." His entire demeanor changed as he turned to stare at the writhing boy. His voice was indifferent and smooth, pleasant even, as he released the spell. "Do you understand?"

Nott nodded, shuddering with fear in his eyes.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, finally! This was such a long chapter! Now, if you could reward me with a review… I beg and plead you all to leave a comment and give me feedback.

**PLEASE REVIEW! **


	18. Black Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **No profit is being made from this story, only satisfaction (and some frustration)!

**Author's Notes: **OMG! OMG! OMG! ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO FRICKEN MUCH! I'd like to take this moment to thank you all who helped me come this far! And also, a special mention to _azulaiii, _who was my one hundredth reviewer! Thank you! **AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! **

To _LovingBlackParadise: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to do so. The romance may take a little while, but I'm working on it. It's much harder to think of the impossible at the moment. But hints will start to show, I promise, and you're all just going to have to hang with me for a moment!

To _Rena Katsueki: _Thank you! I love it when people like my version of Riddle! Kaitlyn _is _very kind, though she is still rather detached and distanced. Yes, her red hair! It's probably more auburn-mahogany-red rather than Weasley-red, I'd think. Kaitlyn's appearance was based off of one of my old friends (though not her character)!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! Has anyone ever told you that you are very encouraging? 'Cause you are!

To _azulaiii: _My 100th reviewer! Yay! Anyhow, Nott is rather frightening (and perverted in his sense). I do agree!

To _Nerys: _Thank you for reviewing! And please continue to do so! Anyhow, on to your questions! I was going to reveal the whole 'changing time' scenario sometime in the near-future, but I'll answer those questions anyhow, since it doesn't make too much of a difference. Harry had hoped that when Riddle travelled to the future, than everything would change. But really, the whole 'time changing' thing can only move a certain individual to the future, therefore not changing the past… Thank you for your praises! And thank you for standing up for me! The girls are just there for more people to kill and people for Hermione to talk to, I suppose. I'll try to not make them as dominant in future chapters!

To _kiah: _Thank you so much for reviewing, and please continue to do so! You are not alone when you say that you want the romance to happen in between Hermione and Riddle.

To _kenzenichi2009_: Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so! I will keep writing as long as people read and review!

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Ah-ha, I agree that Riddle's hot! And dark! And insane! And cruel! And hot! (I already said that, didn't I?)

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Yes, Riddle is rather a possessive person… the more he is of evil! Mwahahahaha!

To _sweet-tang-honney_ (Chapter 16): Thank you!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you so much!

**Shatter – **_**verb**_

**1. **_To break into pieces, as by a blow._

**2.**_ To damage, as by breaking or crushing._

**3.**_ To impair or destroy (health, nerves, etc.)._

**4.**_ To weaken, destroy, or refute. _

**5. **_To be broken into fragments or become weak or insubstantial._

Hermione found herself alone as Kaitlyn left her to her own thoughts, slinking away quietly in the way only Kaitlyn could. This time, though, she found comfort in being alone, with no one to stare or question her as she thought in silence. Silence was good, she mused. It was safe, in that moment.

She watched as a burnt-orange colored leaf lightly drift down as it broke away from its branch, twirling as it did. She felt like that leaf. She had left her comfort-zone, feeling alone and with nothing but air to carry her onwards, and with so much momentum that there was no going back. Hermione watched the leaf touch upon the still water, which was now rippling and forming concentric circles. It was beautiful and significant. The leaf did not get pulled into the water.

Hermione realized that, like the leaf, she could not drown. She could not give up and get swallowed by darkness, instead, she had to stay afloat and try her hardest. The leaf emanated power and defiance in the ripples of water that surrounded in, trying to break its shield. She had to do that as well.

Another leaf broke off of a tree, and this time, Hermione leaned forward and caught it in between her fingers. Gingerly, as if it were a fragile piece of glass and crystal, she brought it towards her own body, staring at it.

_A life saved. _

In her childhood, her mum would always tell her that if you caught a leaf, you were granted one wish. Back then, she'd wish for the most ridiculous things. She wanted to be a princess someday, with the pretty pink dresses and crowns, and get rescued from the dragon by her knight-in-shining armor. Now, she seemed at loss for what she wanted.

Did she want to get out of here? Did she want the Light to win? Both wishes were the most logical, but somehow, they seemed too much for a little leaf to carry as a burden. If she got out of the House, she realized, then this entire opportunity would be gone. She had wanted to change Riddle instead of kill him, Hermione remembered from the time at Hogwarts.

If the Light won… well, that wouldn't be so bad! That would take a miracle!

But she felt as if this wasn't a wish made her to make.

"_I wish that Riddle would change for the better," _Hermione murmured, closing her eyes, _"because if the Light kills him, then we are not better than the Dark Side at all. We don't kill." _

She let go of the leaf, watching it trail away as the wind lightly blew it along its course.

As Hermione watched the leaf, it was as if all the rest of life disappeared. She couldn't hear the girls' chatter any longer, and she couldn't feel the cold wind. There was the soft trickling of water and the floating leaf.

She felt cold hands softly touch her cheek from behind her. She felt a shiver run through her body.

Hermione froze.

The hand traced circles along her pale, cold skin before trailing down to her jaw, outlining her new Mark, and then cupping her neck, her pulse beating erratically. It lowered to her collarbone, caressing the outline of the distinguished bone, before Hermione snapped herself back to reality.

_One. _The girls really did stop talking.

_Two. _The wind was blocked because of the body that interfered with its path.

_Three. _It was Riddle.

With a sharp yelp, Hermione jumped nearly a mile as she sprang away from him like a pissed cat, shaking violently and crouched as if an animal in defense.

Laughter filled the clearing: cold, amused laughter. "Good day, _Meus Leana," _Riddle greeted as if some perfect gentlemen. He extended an arm to touch hers, but she quickly yanked herself away before he could manage any contact.

"Nothing's good around this place," was Hermione's answering growl. She began to back away as Riddle advanced.

He smirked as his long legs overcompensated over hers. He reached her in practically no time at all, grabbing her arms and whirling her around to face him. Riddle stared into her eyes for a moment, narrowing them slightly, before speaking: "You will learn to respect me, _Hermione. _Here, I am the master. You have no friends to protect you any longer. You will _obey me." _

Hermione bit the insides of her cheek. "You are only a coward in my eyes."

_Slap! _

Hermione tasted the blood in her mouth, her ears ringing from the sudden loud noise and her cheek feeling as if it were on fire as the blood rushed desperately to the place of contact. Swallowing the metallic tang of blood, she lifted her eyes to stare into his defiantly.

She was quite conscious of the other girls, who were watching with wide and confused eyes, as they watched the situation unfold. Some had looks of horror, others had disbelief. And still others simply showed fear.

_Good for them. They finally got my point. _

Riddle was staring at her with penetrating eyes that she was trying, failingly, to decode. Her deciphering was doing no good.

Without another word, Riddle turned around abruptly, stalking towards the Riddle House without further ado. He entered the magical barrier without any problem, and when Vyxeria scurried forward to follow him, she shrieked, springing backwards as smoke literally rose from her shoulders.

Riddle whipped around, angled eyebrows raised, before saying with every word dripping in sarcasm, "Oh, I'm _apologize." _He waved his hand, and Hermione felt the change in atmosphere as the walls around the Riddle House became denser for all but one spot in which the girls could enter.

With much trepidation and skepticism, they inched forward, filing in one by one with identical docile expressions (all but Hermione, of course) as they followed their Master inside the magnificent 'house'.

The two doors opened to reveal a magnificent inside. Black, obsidian stones lined the floors and a mahogany wood spiral staircase led to the upstairs floor. Old Victorian chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, crown molding lining the corners intricately. Two house-elves popped into view, bowing before their Master.

"Master!" the two squeaked in complete utter unison.

"Serpentine, bring these girls to their rooms," Riddle spoke with authority.

"Yes, Master! Come, young mizzes!" Serpentine bowed. She had green 'serpentine' eyes the size of tennis balls, and Hermione couldn't help but think that Riddle was simply Slytherin all the way. Serpentine? Really?

Riddle turned to the second house-elf. "Slythera, prepare me a bath. I _trust _that you've kept the House clean?" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, and Hermione immediately felt sorry for 'Slythera', another Slytherin-like name. To be under that scrutinizing glower…

Slythera was cowering slightly in her master's powerful glare, but she otherwise spoke proudly, "Yes, of course, Master! Slythera do's right away, Master!" And with a _pop, _she disappeared.

"Master? Should Serpentine get the rest of the rooms ready for young Master followers?" Serpentine inquired.

_"She means Death Eaters," _Hermione thought blandly.

"No."

Serpentine nodded jerkily and then led the line of girls, twelve now instead of thirteen, up the stairs and towards the left. After walking in the dark and narrow corridor for sometime, it finally opened up to meet a rather grand room, spacious and filled with exactly twelve beds that were lined across the wall.

"This is the east wing," Serpentine said proudly. "If any mizzes need anything, call Serpentine!" And with that, she disapparated.

The rest of the girls began whispering at once, selecting their beds in the same order as they had in the Malfoy Manor.

"Amourette?"

"Hm?" the pretty girl turned to face her with kind eyes. "Is there anything you need?"

Hermione bit her lip. "How come the other Death Eaters won't be here?" It wasn't that she _wanted _the other Dark followers to be here, it just seemed like a strange aspect to her. In the Order, they always suspected that their rather large group of comrades would be together at all times, especially when it came to their very-much-mortal-now leader.

Amourette smiled and shook her head. "Despite popular belief, the Death Eaters are much more confident now that they have sole control over the Ministry, and retreat to their own homes when they are not in meeting."

"So unlike common rumors, all Death Eaters just retrieve to their own Manors?"

Amourette nodded.

Hermione sighed and nodded back in thanks before walking to the direction of the bathroom. It was just as luxurious as the one in Malfoy Manor, she noted.

The moment she locked the door, a note popped into her hand, and she was so surprised that she let out a squeak in astonishment.

Hermione turned over the miniscule piece of parchment and read:

"_H- _

_Just thought you'd want to know that P and W have left Grimmauld Place and is now somewhere in hiding._

_I'll meet you soon. _

_-B_

_P.S. You're curious on how I made the note appear, I know. It appears once you are alone. Complicated magic. Write a response on the back of this parchment. Research it someday." _

Hermione smiled slightly. She knew that she could count on Blaise to keep her up to date. So Harry and Ron have left? Did that mean that Riddle wouldn't torture her for information anymore?

But somehow, she knew that that was not the case.

Riddle still had one thing that he wanted from her: every one of the Order's plans. Over the summer, Harry, Ron, and herself had been updated on every minuscule bit of the Order's schedule and plans. If Riddle were to get his hands on this particular information…

Well, they'd all be as good as screwed.

Hermione wondered where she'd get a quill and ink to write. After a moment of pondering, she decided that she didn't want to go out to face the girls, and murmured softly, "Serpentine?"

With a muted 'pop!' the house-elf appeared, eyes wide and eager. "Mizzes called for Serpentine?"

"Hello Serpentine. My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione smiled to show that she wouldn't hurt the young house-elf. If the Light won, no, _when _the Light won, she would recreate S.P.E.W. and make sure that all house-elves had the proper respect and rights that they should have from doing so much work for witches and wizards.

Serpentine blinked, unsure about her kindness. "Oh, Serpentine is extremely honored to meet Miss Hermione Granger! Serpentine has heard much about Mizzes!" the small house-elf shuddered for some unknown reason. "How can Serpentine help Mizzes?"

"Can you please bring me a bottle of ink and quill?"

"Of course! Mizzes says, Serpentine do's!" Serpentine nodded jerkily. She looked around the bathroom curiously. "Serpentine is sorry to be nosy, but Serpentine is very curious! How come Mizzes is writing in the bathroom?" Her eyes travelled from Hermione to the locked door.

Hermione bit her lip before answering in a low voice, "The other girls don't like me." Except for Amourette, Prere, and Vissaerie. And maybe Amber.

"Oh!" Serpentine's startling green eyes widened. "Serpentine is sorry to intrude! Serpentine will help Mizzes immediately!" She disappeared for a moment before appearing once again. "Ink and quill, Mizzes!"

Hermione smiled and accepted the two objects. "Thank you. May I ask you a question, Serpentine?"

Serpentine smiled. "Of course, Mizzes! Serpentine will answer Miss Hermione Granger as long as it does not disobey Master's orders! Serpentine likes Miss Hermione Granger!"

The Gryffindor's grin stretched a bit wider, and she remembered how Dobby was so eager to help Harry back then as well. Her smile faltered slightly when she thought of Serpentine's 'Master', and she quickly sucked in a breath before asking the house-elf, "Do you think it's possible for me to get some books from the library?" It was a huge house. It must have a library…

The house-elf looked uneasy as she shifted from foot to foot. "Serpentine's not sure, Mizzes! Master never told Serpentine to not let Mizzes get books, but I don't think Master likes Mizzes!"

Hermione nodded and said coaxingly, "You don't have to give me books if you may be punished for it, Serpentine."

"Oh, no, no, no! Serpentine will help Mizzes! What books does Mizzes need?"

"Books on Time Travel," Hermione answered, watching the reaction of the house-elf. It turned from eager to terrified in one millisecond, staring at Hermione with wide eyes.

Serpentine lowered her voice. "Mizzes wants books on time travel because of master?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Mizzes says, Serpentine do's!" Serpentine squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Serpentine will be right back!" She popped away.

Hermione turned her attention back to the piece of parchment. Picking up the quill, she neatly dipped it in ink before writing in neat, elegant script:

"_B- _

_Thank you for keeping me up with what's happening. _

_Did they keep trace of P and W? Do they know where they are? How did Dumbledore get killed? How did Riddle get here?_

_-H_

_P.S. I am very curious. And I _will _research it when I have the time." _

As if sensing that she was done, the note crinkled up in flames before completely disappearing. How interesting, she mused. It was as if the note was flooing over to wherever it was going.

Hermione turned to her left and saw a pile of five books next to her. Serpentine was nowhere to be seen. Frowning slightly at the absence of the house-elf (and wondering if Serpentine was afraid of her now), she picked up the first book.

"_The Wonders of Time Travel"_

Hermione flipped it open, skimming over the words quickly as she had so many times long ago in Hogwarts. She pushed it away when it only showed information on the Time-Turner. Hermione turned to the next book in the stack.

"_The Power of Time" _

This second book helped her progress no more than the first one had. It was a dark book, talking about how time could be so helpful to gain power and how it could help people conquer all land and time periods.

"_Swirls of Color" _and _"Ticking By" _were both no help either. They were much too general to provide information on the different types of time travel.

Sighing, Hermione picked up the last book. It was brown, leather-bound, old, and the two simple words: "_Time Travel" _was embossed in gold. She flipped it open, and after skimming it, she found the different types of time travel.

_How cliché, _Hermione thought, _that it is the last and oldest book in the pile. _

Hermione began to read carefully.

_The magic of time travelling is old and ancient, powerful and dangerous. From what is known to mankind, different sources of time travelling lead to different results and consequences. _

_**1. Time-Turner: **__Elaborately made but easier than most, the time-turner is the most basic and popular among the methods of time travelling. It is a legal method of travelling to the past or future, and an individual must gain the Ministry's permission before using one. __Time-Turners resemble an hourglass pendant on a necklace The hourglass pendant is twisted to move through time, and the number of turns on the hourglass corresponds to the number of hours one travelled back in time. It appears that Time-Turners do not allow their possessors to alter the events that have already happened. The possessor inadvertently recreated all of the events registered by the possessor when he/she traveled through time._

_**2. Ultima Ratio: **__Translated into English as 'The Last Resort', this method of time-travel is incredibly dangerous. The incantation is: vicissitudo aetas semper, and it is translated to mean 'change time forever'. One who travels via 'Ultima Ratio' may change events by recreating them and affecting them, but they will no longer be able to return to their normal time. The future person disappears and is erased from all existence if the person goes back to the past, and if they go to the future, their past self is erased from all existence. _

_**3. Tempus Fugit:**__ Translated into English as 'Time Flies', this method of time-travel is just as dangerous as 'Ultima Ratio'. The incantation is: prodeo in vicis, is est non a vitium, and it is translated to mean 'go forward in time, it is not a crime'. One who travels via 'Tempus Fugit' cannot alter events, and if one were to travel to the past, their future self would disappear, though their existence would still be known. If one were to travel to the future, their future self will disappear to be replaced with the possessor, and it will not change any events leading up to the present. _

Hermione stopped reading right there. This had to be it. It was the only method of time travel that fit all the requirements. Riddle had been sent by a spell, so it wasn't the Time Turner. She still remembered the past 'Voldemort', so his future existence has not been entirely erased.

Which meant that Harry's parents were still dead. _Her _parents were still dead.

She hated Tom Marvolo Riddle so frickin much.

Hermione remembered that she had shivered under his touch. She felt disgust well up her throat as she remembered that.

_It was just from the cold, _she reassured herself.

A small, annoying little voice in the back of her head whispered nasally, _"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that." _

Dammit.

O

_Ginny's POV _

Ginny sighed as she continued her troop in the snow. She kicked at everything that wouldn't hurt her toe. Sticks, pebbles, and leaves.

"_Stupid" _–kick– _"Idiotic" _ –kick– _"Moronic" _–kick –…

Ginny paused in her mindless anger issued violence. She sighed longingly. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione," she whispered. "Stupid, idiotic, moronic Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

Ginny looked back, checking to make sure no one was following her for the umpteenth time. She had sneaked out unceremoniously in the middle of the night, nearly getting caught by Crookshanks in the process (Ginny had saved him for Hermione). Her mother would have a fit once she found out that Ginny had sneaked out of the Burrow, and, Ginny admitted guiltily, her mother would be incredibly anxious and scared.

Molly Weasley was a kind and caring plump woman. She cared for all of her children and Harry so, so much. She had the loudest voice in the world, and Ginny swore that once her mum found out that she was gone, she'd be able to hear her mum calling for her.

Her mum would probably be very, very angry towards Harry and Ron for 'influencing' Ginny towards dangerous and life-threatening tasks.

Ginny felt guilt towards her sneaking out once again. Her mum would be in pain. Good thing she wrote a letter…

_I hope that helps… _

Ginny tucked in her famous fire-red Weasley hair. She glanced around before continuing her trek through the wilderness. Her decision had been rash and impulsive, and incredibly stupid, but she couldn't just stop now.

Ginny wanted to find Harry and Ron. How could they just leave her here? And what about Hermione?

Harry and Ron had left to find the third member of the Golden Trio the moment they found out that she had been captured. No matter how many adults tried to persuade them to not do so and that Hermione could manage, they refused to listen. Death Eaters now controlled the Ministry, and after the recent Ministry break-in, Grimmauld Place was no longer safe and Hermione was nowhere to be found.

She refused to believe that Hermione was dead.

Lupin said that he was nearly 100% sure that Hermione was still alive. _"The Death Eaters wouldn't kill her as long as she has information." _

Not so comforting to think of her being tortured instead.

The Burrow had been the last place they settled. The adults had been quiet about it, but Ginny bet that they would have to be on the run soon.

Ginny wondered vaguely where Zabini was. She had fostered an unnerving crush on him at school, and she had tried with all of her power to convince herself that Blaise was not bad, that Blaise did not torture innocent people…

She sighed and continued her journey to nowhere.

**Author's Notes: **Here it is, chapter 18! Anyhow, before, I had said that this story still had about 10 chapters left. Well, I was wrong. I've taken to writing a lot of Hermione's thoughts (which is a lot of narrative), and it seems that every time, every chapter doesn't have as much as I would like to happen within it. So I do think that this story will be much longer than I predicted (is that a good thing?). **PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW! **


	19. Black Leather

**Disclaimer: **No profit is being made from this. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Notes: **Here's chapter 19! I've been feeling like shit lately because of some virus traveling around my school, so I hope this chapter isn't too crappy! Please remember to leave me a comment and some feedback! **PLEASE REVIEW! **

To _vswimming12: _Thank you so very much!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you! I love surprises, so I assume that you all do too!

To _azulaiii: _Your reviews are not lame! They are quite encouraging, in fact! But I have had problems with typing up reviews as well.

To _Rena Katsueki: _Thank you! I think this story actually depends on Hermione's thoughts, or else without them, this story would actually be quite boring!

To _abcdreamer: _Thank you so much for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

To _abcdreamer (chapter 17): _Thank you! Nice use of the word 'prolific' ;).

To _jkl: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

To _Caro09: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so!

To _milky0candy: _Thank you for reviewing, and please continue to do so! I hope you like this chapter!

**Heart –**_**noun**_

**1. **_The center of the total personality, especially with reference to intuition, feeling, or emotion._

**2.**_ Capacity for sympathy; feeling; affection_

**3.**_ The vital or essential part; core._

Hermione had taken to poking around the large Riddle House. She knew that this was a dangerous 'adventure', but really, what else could they do to her? They've tortured her and tortured others… There was simply nothing else in her power that she could lose.

There was nothing else to fear anymore.

Of course, there was the particular fear of Harry and Ron's lives. But that wasn't in her power, now was it?

After assuring Amourette countlessly that she wasn't vouching for suicidal, Hermione left for the cold corridors of the Riddle House. It was old fashioned yet grand, smaller and much more modest than the Malfoy Manor yet contained the same exquisite and intricate detail that made it beautiful.

The Riddle House was like an Ice Queen: cold and dismal, yet beautiful and desirous.

Hermione pushed open the French doors, wincing slightly at the painful creak of the door on the hinges, and entered the room timidly. Here was the dining room, large and spacious. A polished cherry-wood table stretched across it, and on one side of the room, there was a glass cabinet that displayed many silver utensils and plates, all priceless, Hermione assumed.

She stepped out of the dining room and continued her exploration of the Riddle House.

The next room was… cozier, for lack of a better word. Forest green leather coated the chairs with intricate lines of silver and gold trimming. A large desk sat in the middle, with bookshelves lining the walls.

It must be Riddle's study room.

Hermione warily stepped inside with a longing look at the books. Oh, to be back at the Hogwarts' library again! What she would give up to be there!

Papers and books were scattered across the desk. It was relatively neat to any average person, but to Hermione's eyes, it was a complete utter mess. Her instincts screamed at her to organize it, but her mind told her otherwise. She couldn't risk Riddle knowing that she had been in his study room.

One leather-bound book caught her attention immediately. Black and faded, the book was tattered and unpleasing to the eye. However, right next to this book was the exact copy of it, though lacking in the rips.

How was this possible?

Hermione carefully turned one book over, and then inspected the other.

It was Riddle's _diary. _

How could there be two copies?

It's simply not _possible! _

Hermione remembered that the 'Tempus Fugit' spell only allowed _one _version of an object, so how could it be that there were two copies of this diary?

Perhaps only humans could not be duplicated?

She decided that that must be it. While Riddle could not have two versions of himself in one period of time, an object, such as the book, could be duplicated easily.

Time was such a confusing aspect.

Hermione snorted slightly. Only Riddle would be able to call this book a 'diary' and not be scorned upon and called unmanly.

The Gryffindor mustered all of her bravery and courage and grabbed the diary that was never turned into a Horcrux. The leather was immaculate and perfect, the paper free of rips and tears. She turned to the first page.

_1936, Wool's Orphanage- December 31__st_

_It's my birthday today. I found this book in the musty attic. Mrs. Cole decided not to use the switch on me when she found me in there because it is New Years Eve._

_1937, Wool's Orphanage- January 1__st_

_Mrs. Cole allowed all of us to run around downtown. Billy Stubbs was taunting me as usual. _

_1937, Wool's Orphanage- January 2__nd_

_Billy's rabbit was found dead hanging by the rafters. _

Hermione shivered when she read that. It was strange, reading a 10-year-old's journal, especially since it was _Riddle's. _Even at a young age, he had potent magic and had used it on accident. She flipped forward, skimming some pages. His elegant script was imprinted on her mind as she read endlessly. The words swam across her vision.

_I knew I was special… Professor Dumbledore said that… Hogwarts… Magic… Doctor… I decided to… Chamber of Secrets… Leaving Hogwarts for… Dark Arts… _

Hermione paused at the most recent entries.

_1996, Hogwarts- October 25__th_

_I travelled forward in time. My spell was a success. _

Hermione's eyes widened. So it was _his _plan to send himself into the future? Clever Slytherin git!

_1996, Hogwarts- November 1__st_

_Today, we attack. My loyal followers are going to be here tonight. _

_1996, Malfoy Manor- November 2__nd_

_It was a success. Dumbledore is dead. Hermione Granger has been captured. Why we captured the mudblood, I do not know. Maybe she will be one of entertainment. _

_The young Malfoy needs to learn his lesson. He is weak. He could not even kill Dumbledore with his wand pointed at the defenseless headmaster's head._

_I tortured Granger today. Defiant, that one. She angers me so. But somehow, it just makes me more interested. It's been some time since someone has dared to stand up to me. _

_1996, Malfoy Manor- November 13__th_

_Granger continues to rebel. I'm going to end up killing her if she doesn't begin to oblige to me. Somehow, I don't want her to. _

_1996, Malfoy Manor- November 14__th_

_Granger is all I write about these days. How can she be so strong if she is a mudblood? I will torture her until she screams. She _will _scream. _

Hermione blinked and turned to the most recent entry, so recent, in fact, that the ink was still drying on the paper.

He had just written in it.

_1996, Riddle House- November 23__rd_

_I killed a little girl today. _

Her first reaction was disgust. Here was Voldemort, killing innocent little infants without wholly mercy. He had tried to kill Harry when he was merely a baby, and now this little girl!

But as she thought about it, this was quite strange. Why did he write of this murder if he didn't write any other ones? Is it possible that this Riddle, much younger and have not killed as many people as his future self, felt guilt?

Hermione took a deep breath. She hoped so.

It was still strange, how Riddle did not torture her the moment she entered his house. Didn't he want to have her torturous screams echo through the house forever?

Hermione, for once, made an impulsive decision. It was as stupid as a plan that Ron would have, and it was as selfless as Harry himself.

She closed her eyes and used her mark to 'apparate' to Riddle's side.

O

Hermione blinked spastically as she tried to clear her vision from the sudden swarming of black dots. Finally, she saw that she was in a bedroom, a rather large one at that.

She looked around and immediately recoiled back when she saw the dark form of Riddle standing in front of the large window, minimal light streaming in. His figure was dark, slender, and tall, and in one hand, she could see a glass goblet.

_Firewhiskey? _

Hermione pushed herself to her feet, peering at the figure.

Riddle turned around slowly, his goblet tipping ever so slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, darker than usual, and his entire demeanor seemed off.

"Hello, _Meus Leana," _he greeted.

Hermione stiffened. His voice wasn't as articulate as it usually was, and he didn't nearly seem as strong and dismal as he did before. Was he drunk?

"Come."

Hermione bit her lip in the dilemma. What humans could not control was what humans feared. Riddle was volatile and certainly not within her control… And Hermione definitely feared him.

She took a deep breath and began to inch toward him, slowly crossing the room to stand by his side. She stared into his eyes that were not as guarded as usual.

_One step at a time… _Hermione reassured herself. _This is what you wanted, remember? Change him, right? _

She stood next to him in silence and stared out of the window. Soft white specks were falling from the sky. The first snowfall this winter, she thought. The snowflakes lightly drifted downwards, glinting and glimmering as it did. _So beautiful. _The ground below was beginning to fade from the green color and take a beautiful silver one instead, shimmering in its pure beauty.

Her brown eyes suddenly flickered towards _him_ and watched his hand as he carefully set down the goblet, not making a sound against the glass. Once the goblet was on the table, she stared at him once again.

Riddle looked so innocent right then, as if he were an angel who had come down to Earth. His angled features and emotionless face was wiped of all darkness and cruelty.

And Hermione was so, so scared.

She was unused to this Riddle. She was used to fighting someone who was virtually immortal, someone who was strong and could survive anything. She was used to have to fear her own living essence in his presence.

Hermione felt the inexplicable need to goad him back to his normal self.

"You killed Kriste," she accused, narrowing her eyes.

Riddle turned to stare at her, eyes hardening slightly.

Hermione went on. "You killed your own _father." _

Silence.

"You tried to kill _Harry _when he was a mere infant!"

No response.

"You are a murderer! You are a cruel, sick bastard! You–!" Hermione's screech was cut off by Riddle, who slammed her against the wall, firm hands in a deadlock around her arms. His lips crashed down onto hers, forcing them to move against her will. Every fear, every little bit of insecurity and anger was put into that very kiss.

Hermione felt every one of her muscles go limp, and it was only Riddle's body that held her up. She could feel the muscles on his stomach press against her body as her lips melded with his.

His demanding lips disappeared.

Hermione looked up at him, eyes wide, and saw that his own eyes were closed. His forehead was pressed against hers, and from a witness' point of view, they could've been lovers.

"I am a murderer."

Hermione's voice was shaking when she answered, "You are."

"I am cruel."

"Yes."

Riddle's eyelids suddenly opened to reveal those beautifully tinted winter-grey eyes that stared straight into her soul.

"I killed a little girl today."

Hermione was silent as she listened to him. His voice was soft and melodic, a flowing cadence, as he spoke.

"She was five-years-old. Her mother was screaming for her to run, and her father was begging me to spare her innocent life." To Hermione's shock, tears began trailing down his cheek, leaving a wet trail-mark as it did. His voice cracked slightly, and the pain was evident in his normally emotionless face.

"I killed her father first. He was irritating and pitiful, begging on his knees."

Hermione whimpered slightly.

"Nott took the mother. But the little girl… she just stared at me with tears running silently down her face. How many little girls have you seen that have cried silently?"

Hermione shook her head, gulping as she did.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry," Riddle murmured, pressing his forehead against hers as he whispered brokenly. He was more of a fallen angel now, face in emotional trauma and eyes of pain.

"I'm sorry… so sorry," he whispered over and over again, eyes closing. "So sorry."

Hermione listened in silence, unable to find the strength to say anything at all.

"Do all people have hearts?" Riddle whispered, his warm breath tickling and washing over her skin. He sounded so young, much more of his age, as he asked that. His eyes were round and innocent, so hopeful.

The Gryffindor turned to stare into the windows to his soul. She always believed that a person's eyes were like that, 'the windows to a soul'.

"I believe that," she murmured softly. "I think that all people are born with a heart… just some people lose it."

Riddle was silent for a moment. Then: "Do I have a heart?"

Hermione thought of all of the things that he had done. He had killed and tortured in cold blood, no mercy evident on his face. The truth was inevitable. "I don't think so."

"Can I… Can I find my heart again?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I think you can… if you try hard enough."

O

Hermione apparated herself to her room, tears flying freely down her face as she did. With a 'crack', she launched herself straight into her bed, digging under her comforters and staining her pillow with fresh tears.

She was vaguely aware of Amourette and Prere asking what was wrong, and Amber warding them off later. Hermione never answered them, crying her heart out.

It hurt to think of the broken voice of Riddle as he whispered his deed. Were those words just the result of firewhiskey? Or did he truly believe that he was bad?

Hermione had imagined her pain in several ways. She had expected to have been tortured under the Cruciatus Curse, to watch others die, and to watch others in pain. But she did not imagine her heart aching for the leader of the Dark.

_He's just a teenager. _

Simply a twisted one.

As he had written in his diary, his childhood was not a pleasant one. People picked on him and his dead mother, blamed him of his differences. His childhood had affected the person that he was going to become.

And… that _kiss. _Hermione simply had not expected that. She knew that he had kissed her out of anger and drunkenness, but it still held value. Instead of feeling absolute disgust… she hadn't pushed away at all. Hermione could blame it on her fear and shock as much as she wanted to, but in some way, she liked the honesty of that particular kiss.

She _liked _it.

What was wrong with her?

Hermione remembered how Riddle had stared at her, eyes downcast, looking like a vulnerable child as he did. She remembered how Riddle had pleaded for her to help him, and how she tore away in indecision.

He was a fallen angel.

**Author's Notes: **Short chapter, I know! But, however, it is quite an important chappie as well! I hope you all liked it… tell me how I did! **PLEASE REVIEW! **


	20. Black Betrayals

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all for your lovely feedback! This chapter shows Riddle's reaction to how he acted last chapter, hopefully you'll all like it! Because _Sterope _was curious on how Harry and Ron were doing, I'm writing some of this chapter on the Order as well as the rest of the 2/3 of the Golden Trio (on the run!)… And _maybe _a little on Ginny… And perhaps Zabini… You get my drift (:

On a different note, I am currently beginning another fic called 'Beautiful Scars', a Dramione that is _slightly_ alike to this one. Do read it if you please, and leave a comment if you like! And, as always, **please review **this chapter!

To _Vampiress Idrial: _Thank you! I suppose I just got tired of writing way too much narrative (:

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _azulaiii: _Yes, the kiss certainly is something that is important, eh? I like the sound of that: 'Da Kiss'.

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! Riddle certainly isn't as strong as he wished now is he?

To _Steph672: _Thank you! Changing his character is what this entire story is about, I think.

To _bubzz: _Here it is (:

To _Fiane: _Believable is good! Thank you for reviewing.

To _Dinobunny: _First of all, I adore your user name! Secondly, thank you! I do hope it's believable (despite how unrealistic the pairing is).

To _Sterope: _Yes, I've questioned myself on so many levels about time travelling (quite confusing, it is!). Riddle _does _know about the prophecy, and his age is approximately seventeen. Your questions about the Horcruxes, Harry and Ron, and if they meet Hermione any time soon will be answered in the next few chapters! Thank you for reviewing!

To _EmmberlyneRiddle: _Thank you for those kind praises! I understand your doubts for Riddle… even _I _doubt him at times… But it really depends if you fall easily for his bad boy gone good picture (:

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Aw, thanks! I think I would be falling for him too…

To _Caro09: _Thank you!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Missed you lately (: Welcome back! Anyhow, thank you for your praises! Metaphors rock the world! And yes, the kiss was quite aggressive on Riddle's part, but a kiss is a kiss, isn't it?

To _SerenityLux: _Thank you so much! Riddle's character is something that I really had to think over (since it was never truly characterized in Rowling's books). I'm glad you liked it.

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _So dramatic! I hope it wasn't so unexpected that it's unbelievable (: It's the only way to have some romance.

**Betrayal- **_**verb**_

**1.**_ To deliver or expose to an enemy by treachery or disloyalty._

**2.**_ To be unfaithful in guarding, maintaining, or fulfilling._

**3.**_ To disappoint the hopes or expectations of; to be disloyal to._

The moment Blaise stepped into his room at the Zabini Manor, a shattering of orange with green tinted sparks showered up in front of him, causing him to sputter and shout, "Bloody hell!" in the process.

The sparks disappeared, fading away to air to reveal a crisp piece of parchment, full of his and Hermione's writing. Blaise took a second to compose himself, as he had the talent of, and gingerly picked up the note, turning it over to see what she had written.

"_B- _

_Thank you for keeping me up with what's happening. _

_Did they keep trace of P and W? Do they know where they are? How did Dumbledore get killed? How did Riddle get here?_

_-H_

_P.S. I am very curious. And I _will _research it when I have the time." _

Blaise snorted, flicking his wand over to the door to lock it, twisting his wrist a second time to seal it completely shut, watching as a thin silver stream of light lined the frame of the door before disintegrating. Satisfied with his handy work, he summoned a quill and a fresh piece of parchment.

"_H- _

_They can't find the two knuckleheads. No idea. My best is probably somewhere in the forest on the run. Don't worry._

_On with your endless stream of questions. Dumbledore was supposed to be killed by Draco, and Draco even held him defenseless. Don't tell Drake that I __**ever **__said this lest you want me to die a painful death (which wouldn't help your case), but I think that Draco, like the rest of us 'rebel Slytherins', didn't want to kill. I don't either. In the end, Snape killed him. I think it was because of an Unbreakable Vow. _

_Riddle got here by the 'Tempus Fugit' spell. I assume you know about it?_

_-B_

_P.S. I can't send you notes so often. Respond to this and I may not answer for a while. _

He read over it, eyes skimming over the piece. After a moment of debate, he waved his wand over the words _'I don't either', _not because he was some bloodthirsty murderer, but just in case the note got intercepted (in which he highly doubted).

The clever Slytherin nodded his head semi-consciously and then snapped his fingers, and with a 'pop!' the note disappeared and dissolved into flames.

O _Harry and Ron _O

Harry felt another tremor of coldness shiver through his body and he wrapped his arms around himself for just some warmth. Warming charms didn't protect you from everything.

He looked at his travelling partner, who was hopping up and down and doing jumping jacks to stay warm. Harry was yet again surprised that Ron hadn't uttered one single word of a complaint, probably because of his guilt.

Ron had admitted that he felt guilty about Hermione's case. He had said that if he hadn't said those hurting words in the Great Hall or if he didn't shout at her in the first place, she'd be with them, not in the filthy and cruel hands of the enemy. When Harry reassured him and said that it was fine and it wasn't necessarily his fault, Ron had persisted.

At the fleeing of Hogwarts, Ginny had jammed a sack into his arms as children all around them screamed and ran, lights that signaled dark curses flashing across the grounds. The youngest Weasley had shouted that it was from Hermione, and moments later, Professor McGonagall had grabbed Ginny and hauled her away from the battle.

After making it to the Burrow, Harry and Ron had eagerly opened the fabric spell-protected sack to see Harry and Ron's most prized items (Ron's was the food).

They were both eternally grateful for their intelligent friend.

Oh, he remembered that fight that he and Ron had against all of the adults. They had begged for them to not go looking for Hermione, that the Death Eaters were simply baiting them, but they had refused to listen…

_Flashback _

"_Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! You will __**not **__go into the Death Eater's hands to save Hermione!" This was Molly._

_[Lupin enters with a grim expression]. "I know that you both love her like a sister, but it will not help her case nor yours to go looking for her. I'm sure that they will keep her alive–"_

"_While torturing her!" Ron had shrieked, face purpling. "Torturing isn't much better than death!" _

"_You will stay __**right here!" **_

"_I refuse!"_

"_Mrs. Weasley, with all due respect, I am going to go look for Hermione. Though you are like my mother, you are still not, and I __**am **__going to look for Hermione!" Harry had said, as calmly and logically as possible. _

"_HARRY POTTER! I treat you like a son!" _

_Lupin glanced around at the furious faces of disbelief (Ron), anger (Molly), tepidness (Kreacher), trepidation (Ginny), and a rapidly losing patience Harry. "Molly, you don't control him…" he reasoned, eyeing Harry sternly. "However…" _

"_Well then, Harry, you will NOT drag my son into this battle of death with you! I will not have it! Will not!" Molly was crying now, out of her desperation. "Will not! I will __**not **__deal with this behavior!" _

"_Mum!" _

"_It's all right, Mrs. Weasley. I have no intention to take your son away from you."_

"_Harry!" _

_End Flashback_

In the end, however, Harry had reluctantly agreed for Ron to come. After some cunning Slytherin-like manipulation and a carefully laid plan (Ron had the spattergroit), they had slipped out of the house will a few tearful goodbyes trailing behind them.

They had to find Hermione. She was the brains, the core, and the hidden leader, of the entire thing. She was the only one who had the mind-power to decipher small codes and secrets. She was the one that they could always count on.

They needed her.

However, they did go along and tried their luck for Horcruxes. No others were found. After a dangerous encounter with Nagini in Godric's Hollow, they had been much more careful and watching their every step as if the ground would cave any moment.

He sighed, pulling his fingers through his mess of raven hair as he stared, transfixed, at a snowy spot on the ground. It had snowed for the first time today, and now, the snowflakes were only drifting about. He and Ron had ducked straight into the tent at that, reveling in the power of magic.

Ron suddenly sat straight up. "Someone… someone's out there, Harry!" he whispered hoarsely, having not talked for quite a while. He was on his feet in a second, wand drawn, and knuckles nearly white from gripping it too hard.

Harry had the same reaction, green eyes flashing like a dangerous predator as he looked around wildly. His breath came out in billows in the air, visible to him and a slight distraction as he waited for the wards to be breached.

They felt a small prod in the atmosphere of their dome-like protection, and the two friends' eyes met for a split second before dashing towards each other and standing back-to-back. It had been the best strategy they had come up with so far: if there was ever a breached ward, they would stand to protect each other's backs.

Another faint rustle. Harry bit his lip worriedly. How many were there? He hoped fervently that it was someone of the Light who was coming, but why would they? They wouldn't go around untangling wards.

But of course, they might be looking for him.

It was strange, how the Light and Dark were both looking for him. One more similarity. He shivered. Of course, their intentions were different. That's what set them apart…

Another bout of rustles. This time, they heard some appraising murmurs and some cussing before another layer of wards were shed.

"Harry!" an all too familiar voice stage-whispered. "Harry! It's me, Remus Lupin!"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other again. They wouldn't just go around trusting anyone who claimed to be Remus Lupin: that was no doubt. But if Harry shouted back, then they would know that he was here. If it was some clever trick of the other side, then they would be doomed.

Ron answered. "Prove it!" he boomed back, eyes wide with adrenaline. When it came to flight or fight, it all depended on the numbers, they had planned. If the Death Eaters out-numbered them five to one, they'd pick flight immediately. There was no way they could out-duel five dark-trained grown Death Eaters.

But any less, they'd stand and fight. And make sure none got away.

"I'm Remus Lupin, also known as Moony, a Marauder, and has a furry little problem!" was the answering call.

It was good enough. Within seconds, Harry and Ron carefully worked diligently at lowering the wards, ending up being drenched in sweat from the work.

"At least we know that our wards would work," Ron muttered under his breath.

There, in front of them, was Remus, standing with a thick cloak and boots to match as he waited for them. He greeted them with a bear hug, but the normally warm welcome was lacking.

"How's it going back there?" Ron questioned as soon as common courtesy was finished. His eyes lightened somewhat at thinking of his family. "Is mum getting ready for Christmas yet? I'd love some sugar cookies…"

Lupin laughed, a sharp bark, before he sobered. "No, Molly isn't working on making Christmas a warm festive holiday yet. She's more of preparing for survival and perhaps a nice feast on Thanksgiving, which you know is coming up." He beckoned for the two not-so-little boys to follow him as he walked towards the fringe of bare trees. Some trees that still held on to their leaves seemed to be on fire, the red leaves catching the glowing sunset. It felt as if the forest was lighted with flames.

"How'd you find us, Remus?" Harry asked after a pause. He had been quite curious of that one. Out of all forests and hiding places, Lupin didn't even seem _that _tired out from sniffing out every corner of London.

Lupin gave him a grim smile. "Werewolf senses, and familiarity to you, I suppose. Greyback wouldn't be able to find you because he doesn't know you well enough. But it was hard work."

"Where are you taking us?"

"Harry, I want to you to listen before you judge–"

Harry narrowed his eyes, pulling to a full stop. "You're taking us back to the Burrow then?" he deadpanned, though his eyes told another story. They were full of suspicion, and both emerald orbs were accusing Lupin of manipulating them.

Lupin sighed, stopping as well, massaging his temples as if there was a headache that he couldn't make go away. "I'm taking you back because Molly wanted… no, _needs… _you to come home."

"My mother _always _wants me to come home!" Ron responded. "That can't simply be the reason why you'd trek, through forest and mountain, to look for us!"

Harry's head snapped up as he watched his best friend, eyes wide with surprise. Ron shifted awkwardly. "What?" he demanded.

"Really, that's one of the most intelligent things that I've ever heard you say. If Mione were here…" Harry trailed off weakly, looking away as he did.

"Yeah, 'if Mione were here'," Ron echoed, looking drained and defeated.

Lupin glanced in between the best friends before taking a deep breath. "Your mum needs you right now, Ron. She… Just this morning, we found out that Ginny had ran away."

Ron's eyes sharpened within a millisecond. _"What?" _he hissed, leaping up with fists clenched and teeth grinding together. "She _what?"_

"Ginny ran away to look for you two," Lupin eyed both boys warily. "I'm sure your mother would do to have her son's comfort right now."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut before opening them, whispering, "Did she leave any trails?"

"No. But she did write a letter for Molly," Remus shook his head. "That's the only way we knew that she wasn't kidnapped by Death Eaters in the middle of the night."

There was another beat of silence. But though there was hardly a rustle of leaves or chirp of a bird, it felt loud, as if they could hear their own hearts beating in their chests.

"Come on, let's Apparate to the Burrow," Lupin finally said in a raspy voice, nodding at both boys before disappearing with a 'pop'. Two pops followed after.

O _Hermione _O

Hermione looked around and sighed. It was somewhat defeated, as if there was no hope in fighting anymore. She knew that she could not run. If she ran, Riddle would simply just pull her back with her mark.

How she hated that mark.

That, she concluded, was why being some Death Eater would be for life…

Ah, the significance of a mark.

But she knew that if she could somehow simply communicate with the Order of the Phoenix, simply _once, _she would be happy.

Not that it would be possible.

Was it?

Hermione knit her eyebrows together, biting her fingernail as she sat in deep thought. It _was _possible, she realized. She had learnt how to Apparate in sixth year, and she _could _Apparate to the Burrow, quickly saying something before leaving.

Leaving would be hard.

To have her loved ones, the people that she cared most for, standing right in front of her only to have to strip herself away from them once again was painful.

She sighed.

People loved only to have the love shatter and break.

Hermione looked around. The House was seemingly deserted at the moment, an echoing quality adding to every careful step she took. She opened the grand doors, cringing at the creak, before slipping out, as silent as the night. Licking her lips, the Gryffindor lightly traipsed down the front steps, her walk turning into a run as she dashed for the Apparition point.

So close.

She huffed in another swallow of air, arms swinging wildly as she ran, closer and closer to the line she got.

Of _course _Riddle was reckless when it came to keeping her in. Since they could simply apparate her back, why did they need to bother to keep her from running in the first place?

The moment her feet touched no-man's ground, she swirled away with a sharp 'crack'.

O

Hermione gripped her arms around her body, clenching her teeth. She had made it.

She did it.

And it was so simple.

She almost wanted to laugh.

Hermione blinked as she looked around, taking in the cozy house and the people gardens. Even in war, the Burrow looked warm and inviting.

She wondered why it wasn't conquered yet.

She heard voices inside. Lightly tip-toeing her way towards the door, she paused in the doorway, excitedly listening to Harry's voice. It was so familiar, so _friendly, _compared to all of the others. Her heart was pounding in her chest, thudding so hard that she thought that perhaps her entire body vibrated with every thump.

"I know that you plan to look for Hermione even further, Harry." It was Lupin's wise and understanding voice, though it didn't have the same conviction as the professor have had before.

There was an exasperated sigh before Harry spoke: "Of course I am. She's my best friend. What do you expect me to do?"

There was a momentary pause, and just before Hermione was about to dash inside and envelope Harry into a bone-crushing hug, Lupin answered gravelly:

"Harry, you can't trust everyone in the war."

What?

What did _that _mean?

"Hermione has been my friend for six years–"

"I know, I know. But it could be a trap, carefully laid out for _six years…" _

"That's improbable! Hermione's muggle-born…"

"Perfect for the trap," Lupin answered. His voice was dead serious. Hermione could not believe it: he thought of her a traitor? She would _never dream _of joining the Dark side! How could he?

But it would be a dangerous entrance for her now, with the doubt and skepticism on Lupin's side…

There was a huff. "I can't believe that you think of Hermione as a traitor and spy! She would _never _do that!"

Lupin began pacing, Hermione could tell by the renewed footsteps in the room. "I know, I know. It's hard for you to think that. But Hermione has been with the Death Eaters for some time now, and the Death Eaters haven't even taunted us about her capture! That is not their style to act silently!"

There was another pause, and then a defeated sigh.

"I've looked for her for a month."

"I know, Harry."

Another beat of silence.

"You want me to let go?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"I've let go of too much. I'm not letting go of Hermione. I love her as a sister. I might stop looking for her but I still believe in her."

"That's as much as I could expect."

Hermione felt her throat constrict and warm tears begin to the leak out of her eyes. She loved Harry. She loved him so much…

And now, Lupin was convincing him that she may have joined the Dark side.

This _cannot _be happening…

Warm arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back, apparating on the point.

**Author's Notes: **What'd you think? Tragic? Sad? Depressing? Probably not happy… **Please review! **


	21. Black Potions

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Simply put, I have a smile on my face now (: Thank you for your wonderful reviews! Sorry that I haven't updated lately… I just haven't really felt like writing. Not only that, but my schedule was quite hectic. Anyhow, here's chapter 21! I know many of you had questions about the last chapter, and I hope that those questions are answered here! And, as usual, **PLEASE REVIEW! **

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Here it is!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Don't worry, you're 'amazingly hot villain' (lol!) will be in this chappie! Your questions will be answered in this chapter as well!

To _stewart02: _Thank you!

To _rareomen30: _I have been bored with fanfiction as well, and a great story is hard to come by… I'm really happy that you like this one!

To _SerenityLux: _Thanks… Imagine how Hermione feels right now :/

To _Sterope: _I suppose that to answer your question, it all decides upon how the reader thinks of it. Maybe I'll put in a word on it in this chappie. But you could think that since Harry and Ron just got apparated to the Burrow with Lupin, the wards were disturbed temporarily, therefore allowing Hermione's entrance. Thank you!

To _EmmberlyneRiddle: _Here it is, more Riddle and Hermione!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Everything _is _a _tad_ coincidental, isn't it? Let's see if it's Riddle or not… the magic of cliffhangers!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I can't put in enough 'thank you' for you! I'm actually a little surprised that I've sustained this long… I haven't ever really been that committed to anything before!

To _azulaiii: _Lupin did that because he is the most cautious and probably has more knowledge of being tricked. Yes, Mrs. Weasley is rather funny, isn't she? (:

To _Disirea: _It never mentions anything like this in the book because there is no Riddle and Hermione romance in the book… I simply want to remind everyone that the entire romance is unrealistic, so the plot is as well! The question is: _is _Hermione being treated like a house-elf? I thought not… Thank you for your comments anyhow.

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _I loved Remus too… but I chose him specifically because he is intelligent and knows the feeling of being betrayed by a close friend (Pettigrew?)… I'm quite shocked myself (:

To _bubbz: _Here it is!

To _Ada Malfoy nee Lovelace: _Thanks so much!

To _Rena Katsueki: _I would most definitely cry in Hermione's situation right now. I will make sure that Tom makes an entrance in this chapter! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

To _milky0candy: _Your question will be answered in this chapter!

To _FantasticMissFox: _Thank you very much! I hope you like this chapter!

**Lone **_**– adj.**_

**1. **_Being alone, without company or accompaniment; solitary_

**2.**_ Standing by itself or apart; isolated_

**3. **_Sole; single; only_

Hermione screamed Harry's name the moment her capturer let her go. She kicked and clawed and shrieked as loud as she could, tears streaking down her eyes. So _close… _

But would she even _want _to go in there? What if Harry believed Lupin?

She vaguely registered that a '_silencio' _spell mute her vocal cords as well as a silent binding spell, long binds weaving themselves around her arm and tying her to a chair.

Was she going to die?

_Of course, _Hermione thought dreamily, much in that same trance-like sensation and look that was permanently displayed on Luna Lovegood's. Death would be great. It would release her from all the pain, all of the internal hurt and external scars…

Do not get her wrong, she was not one for suicidal. She believed in fighting for the good and dying if she must, not giving up and leaving the Light behind. However, now was a special case. The Light as good as given up on her, the Dark despised her (obviously).

How could she change Riddle?

Well, hell, what a dream.

She bet that Riddle was the one who captured her, and if not him, one of his minions. She craned her neck forward to look for his stiff figure, undoubtedly tense with fury by now. Instead of seeing his starkly white and black appearance, she saw ebony skin and concerned brown eyes. Somewhere in time, the silencing spell was lifted, and she found her voice once again.

"_Zabini?" _she hissed, eyes narrowing murderously.

Zabini recoiled at her venomous greeting, eyes darkening slightly as he did. "Yes, _Granger. _I am _Zabini." _

Hermione glowered at him, lip curling over her teeth. "I don't _understand! _All this time, I've trusted you! _I've trusted you! _You _bloody moron! You sick Slytherin git!" _Her voice rose an entire octave, nearing hysteria. "This _sick twisted world!" _

"Listen to me _right now," _Blaise answered sternly, grabbing her arms and holding her in place. "The Death Eaters have been watching the Burrow for _months _now, and if it weren't–"

Hermione thrashed against the bindings, trying to find a way to hurt him. "Really? Really?" she shrieked. "Then how come the Burrow hasn't been attacked, huh? _MONTHS? _Why is the rest of the Order still there? I thought you all believed in killing us! _KILLING US!" _

"I won't say anything until you _calm down," _Zabini answered, turning on his heel and walking towards a seat. He slid into it comfortably, flexing his fingers, and laying them on his stomach as he waited. His posture showed serenity, calmness, and absolute leadership. However, his eyes displayed otherwise. Impatience, anxiety, and a sliver of fear were dancing in his obsidian eyes. The air around him crackled with tension.

Hermione answered with a 'why should I?' before her logic overtook her wild instincts and took several deep breaths, eyes closing and fists loosening.

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Inhale._

_Exhale. _

She risked nearly hysteria once again by opening her eyes to look at Zabini's masquerade of a calm figure. Anger bubbled at the back of her throat, and she quickly quelled it, gnawing at her lip. She noticed that they were in a small wooden shack, looking much alike to the Shrieking Shack. Little swirls of dust rose from the broken floors. Dry paint peeled from the walls, and the light was minimal.

"Good," Blaise said briskly, standing up. "Now don't interrupt me."

"But I–"

"You can talk at the end!" Blaise hissed, showing much more conviction than the usual gentleness that he had. When she fell silent, he nodded, looking a tad more satisfied.

"Now, as I was saying, Death Eaters have been watching the Burrow for some months by now. They could only watch from afar, as they couldn't get past the wards, but the Dark Lord has created little pieces called 'looking glasses'." Blaise held up a little chip of gold. On it was runes and swirls of dark magic, thrumming with power. "While the Burrow remains unable to be seen because of various wards and such, these 'looking glasses' can penetrate some of the wards and can allow us to see inside of it. While we cannot hear what they are saying or planning, we can monitor who is in and out of the house."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But–"

Zabini's eyes flashed warningly, making her clamp her mouth shut once more.

Chuckling to him slightly at watching the bookworm attempt to muffle her questions, he continued: "The Burrow was an obvious place for the Order to take up after Grimmauld Place. However, we did not attack the Order of the Phoenix because Potter and Weasley weren't there. _As in…" _he quickly added as he saw Hermione's mouth open again, "we were waiting for them to come back."

"I don't understand," Hermione quickly bit out.

Zabini leaned against the wall, tapping a finger on his chin. "Well, I suppose it would be easier to say that we were keeping the Order in the Burrow so that when Potter and Weasley comes back, we would be ready. If we killed off the last station in which the Order had, then we would have no idea where they were."

Hermione paled perceptibly.

"I was one of the few Death Eaters on duty today. The moment Potter, Weasley, and Lupin apparated through the wards and broke through the protection momentarily, Yaxley immediately reported back to the Dark Lord. Then, you _just happened _to apparate in."

"But why–?"

"Of course I had to capture you," Zabini answered, looking irritated. "Would you rather Dolohov? He wouldn't be so lenient, despite his explicit instructions to not touch you or even 'aim a wand at you'."

Hermione stared. "He said that?" she whispered, incredulous.

Zabini shrugged before saying warily. "I think he enjoys your pain too much for you be to accidentally killed…"

The Gryffindor sagged against the chair. Then, she suddenly sat straight up. "So Harry and Ron are fighting _right now?" _

There was a pause before Blaise answered: "Yes."

"Let me go! Please! Let me go _right now! _I _demand _for you to–"

"I can't do that," Zabini answered calmly, pain slightly evident in his straining voice. "I won't free you, Hermione. I won't."

Hermione jerked against the binds, flopping around them like a fish out of water. Suddenly, her body stopped struggling and her entire demeanor changed. Her eyes were watering, tears streaking down her face. "Please," she whispered brokenly. "Please let me go."

Zabini looked away and shook his head. He didn't have many weaknesses: but tears really got to him. Sadness. Defeat.

The fall of the great.

Hermione Granger probably never considered herself great. She probably never thought of herself as a tough heroine, or some wonderful glorious sidekick. Sure, she wasn't the most beautiful girl on Earth, but the Gryffindor was truly great.

Blaise admired her for her greatness.

She was great because of her inner strength, her _pride, _and her refusal to ever step back down. She was great because she was so self-sacrificial, so caring, and so forgiving. She was great for her bravery, her courage, and her intelligence.

So came the fall of the great.

"Please, _Blaise," _she whispered softly. "Please let me go. I have nothing left to lose. Lupin thinks that I'm a traitor–"

"He _what?" _

Warm tears overflowed her eyes, rolling down her cheek and creating reflective streaks of water. "He… he accused…"

Zabini began pacing. Was the Light not as strong as he thought of it to be? If the Light were all Hermione Grangers, then they would surely win. His lip curled over his teeth. Stupid. Cowardly. _Werewolf. _

He supposed that it was part of his upbringing that he hated the werewolf. His parents may have constantly taught him to despise muggleborns, but they also lectured him on half-breeds as well. Naturally, he hated that werewolf. However, now… how did that creature _dare _to lose hope on _Hermione Granger? _

"Zabini?"

Zabini snapped out of it, realizing that he had been staring straight at her while he zoned out.

"Don't be mad at Remus," Hermione whispered. "He's a good man."

"_He's a hell of a werewolf, too," _Blaise thought viciously before focusing on her first words. _"Don't be mad at Remus."_

"_Don't be mad at Remus."_

"_Don't. Be. Mad. At. Remus." _

Blaise nearly laughed. So caring, so _kind. _Only she would forgive someone and care for him after accusing her of being a traitor. She was downright Gryffindor.

"Remus… he knows most about betrayal, I suppose," Hermione whispered, understanding dawning on her eyes as she spoke. "His own close friend, Peter Pettigrew, in which he had known _all _of his Hogwarts life, betrayed them, the Marauders. Pettigrew was never suspected to be a traitor because of how weak he looked. Remus probably promised himself to never overlook such little things again." She was rambling now, convincing herself and enlightening herself on her predicament. "Yes, that must be it."

Blaise just listened to her talk.

Hermione finally ended her ramble, pausing to take a breath and look at the Slytherin with lighter eyes. She then began trembling. "Please let me go. Let me fight for what I believe."

Blaise shook his head. "Hermione, you must understand. The Order and Potter and even Weasley have chances to flee. I will not put your life in crisis for this! You realize that you will never be able to run anyhow? Do you plan to die?"

Hermione was silent.

"If I let you go, you'll lose my information as well. _I'd _die for spying… for being a blood-traitor," Zabini cringed slightly. All of his childhood, he strived to be the best of the best. To be the most intelligent, the most powerful, _the best. _He spoke of the Dark Lord with respect and deference, and he believed in the pureblood supremacy. He was everything his parents made him to be.

But now…

He was the polar opposite. He fought for muggleborns. He fought for half-breeds.

He was a _fucking blood-traitor._

Hermione's brown eyes had taken an empty look, filled with nothingness and hollowness.

"Hermione?" he whispered softly. "Hermione, I have to bring you to the Dark Lord."

She turned to stare at him robotically, eyes showing no emotion at all. Blaise laid a cloaked arm on her shoulder and they Apparated the rest of the way to the Riddle House.

O

The door closed softly behind Hermione as she was forced to kneel on the ground, invisible pressure pushing her down relentlessly. Her spine was stiff with attempting to fight the spell, and her neck was bent at a forcibly strange angle, though the bone was not broken.

"You dare to run?" Riddle's voice penetrated the dead silence of the room. His cold, velvety voice echoed around eerily, resonating and chilling her bones. His eyes were dangerously dark, lips curled into a sneer.

Hermione did not answer, keeping her eyes on the ground, staring at the non-existent speck on the cold stone floor.

"_I asked you a question!" _Riddle walked forward languidly, sliding forward as if floating, before a white hand shot out and slapped her across the cheek, red blooming on her skin from contact.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, lifting her chin. "Evidently, _yes."_

Riddle glared at her, eyes beginning to tint with blood. "It was so foolish, so _very _foolish of you, _Meus Leana. _It does not do for little mudbloods to run around as if they were some _free _human being," he hissed icily, voice strangely calm. His cold voice crept up her spine, sending shivers of fear down her back.

Hermione dared herself to stare into his eyes, brown clashing with red. "I was born a free human being, and I still am."

The young Dark Lord laughed cruelly, sending daggers into her skin with that sound. "Free? Free? _My dear Hermione, _define _free _to me!"

His last word was repeated hollowly, echoing all through the room, bouncing off the surfaces of cold stone. Silence met his demand, and only their quite breathing could be heard.

Hermione blinked tears from her eyes. From her peripheral vision, she could see that they were alone. And because of that, she took the biggest risk of her life.

"Why? Why do you kill?" she murmured softly. She saw his expression turn blank automatically, staring at her with indifference.

"I kill those who deserve to be killed," he answered, his voice startlingly emotionless. It was monotonous.

Hermione gulped down her fears, daringly continuing. "And that little girl? Did she deserve to be killed? Her loving mother and father… did they deserve to be killed?" Her voice began to double in strength, going from wavering to a firm tone.

"She was a _muggle_!" he hissed, eyes beginning to show signs of darkening once again. "Why should a silly little useless _thing _have a family while people in the Wizarding World _don't? _Her parents are bound to hurt her anyhow…"

"What?" Hermione rasped, staring up at him. In her voice was confusion, absolute bewilderment, at what he had said.

Riddle whipped around to face her. "My father," he snarled, "Was a _sorry excuse for a man! _He didn't _care _for me! He let my mother _rot and die! _And he was a _muggle!" _The Dark Lord grabbed the glass goblet and whipped it across the room, watching it hit the solid wall with a sickening crash. A billion rainbow pieces of glasses shimmered brilliantly to the floor.

Hermione began to doubt herself. Was it right to take such a chance? Was it right to rile him up and force him to show emotion? She stared at him, watching him shake in anger and fury. To see Riddle show such extremity of emotions were so very rare… and dangerous…

"Not all muggles are bad," Hermione whispered timidly.

Riddle laughed, the icy noise repeating itself ten times over. "I know you read my diary," he sneered. "I know you have read about those boys in the orphanage. Those horrid _muggles. _They made me vulnerable and caught me defenseless," he spat. The Dark Lord straightened up, a manic gleam in his eyes. "But they will never again. They will _never _hurt me: never watch me as some hurt little piece of _scum. _No, they are under _my _control, for _I am Lord Voldemort!" _

Hermione drew back from his wrath, bringing her knees to her chest protectively as a wave of Riddle's magic flew around him, circling her and ripping at her soul like a tornado of ice pricks.

"Tom," she murmured softly. His name tasted so strange on her lips as she spoke it. It just wasn't the same as when she addressed the other 'Toms' in the world: it was as if it held much more meaning. "Tom, please believe me. Not all muggles are bad. They can love, they can care… can you?"

Her question hung in the air, every syllable holding meaning as it echoed over and over again in their heads.

_Can you care? Can you love? _

Riddle gazed at her, his eyes a layered grey and his face smooth and free of anger lines.

"I don't know," he whispered, looking at the far wall. "I don't know." He looked so remorseful, just like last time, and Hermione's heart ached for him. With a shaking arm, she lightly touched his shoulder, trembling and all muscles ready to spring in anticipation.

Much to her surprise, he nodded slightly, taking labored breaths and taking his time to collect his sudden flow of emotion.

Riddle's eyes flickered over to her, and he softly touched her arm. The moment his hand came in contact with her skin, they were 'apparated' to his room. Hermione was stalk-still as she watched him sit on his bed carefully, putting his hands around his head as if in immense pain.

"How? How do you make me feel?" Riddle whispered hoarsely, staring at her with something akin to confusion.

Hermione debated this in her head before answering just as quietly: "I only make you face the truth."

After a moment of silence, Hermione said: "I'll go get you a cup of tea." She softly got up, barely making a sound, and crossed the room, softly closing the door after her. She entered another room, busying herself to making tea so that she wouldn't have to think.

Her sharp eyes zeroed in on one particular cloak in the corner. She saw a black lump of cloth, and a–

A Gryffindor crest.

_Her _Gryffindor crest.

She quickly hopped over to her Hogwarts cloak, nearly ripping it as she hoisted it up excitedly. Hermione drew it to her nose, breathing in the warm scent of the school. It engulfed her with happy memories and easy times… oh, how she wished to be there…

There was a soft clink of glass against stone.

Hermione bent down, picking up a small glass vial. In the reflection, she could see her large brown eyes, filled with tiredness and renewed hope. She seemed… somewhat older.

She narrowed her eyes at the liquid substance, and suddenly, she remembered…

_Flashback (Chapter 9) _

_Hermione knew that Harry was out somewhere with Dumbledore, and that he'd be back sometime. She had a feeling in her gut that she should pack some things for him…_

_She summoned a bag quickly and folded the invisibility cloak into it, stuffing the three-quarters full of the tiny vial of Felix Felicis into the bag and throwing in a minimized version of a book…_

_When Hermione finally decided to pack something for herself, she heard footsteps coming towards the room. She hastily grabbed a random potion that was sitting on the desk and a couple of Galleons… _

_End Flashback_

She gasped, staring at the little potion. She inspected it, watching as it threw strange colors of blue, purple, and green in its reflection.

It was poison.

It was one of the most lethal poisons in the world, in fact, and she remembered Harry saying that he was going to research it for his homework. _"One drop and you're screaming for death. Two drops and you __**are **__dead," _he had said.

She could do it.

She could poison Riddle.

He wouldn't know…

Hermione's eyes travelled from the poison to the cup of tea, judging the distance and her choices.

If she poisoned him, the war would be over…

If she didn't…

He had a chance.

Everyone deserves a chance…

Hermione put the potion back into her cloak.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, this chapter is here! I hope you enjoyed it! A second reminder to read my other story… **PLEASE REVIEW! **


	22. Black Kisses

**Disclaimer: **Sigh. Once again, I do not own Harry Potter!

**Author's Notes: **Hello, everybody! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! It really is keeping me going… I actually think that I'm also going to thank for supplying all of those definitions that I use in the beginning of each chapter, and also for helping me get lyrics for songs. And also, Happy Halloween! Please do continue to **review! **

To _Rena Katsueki: _I really do like Zabini… He's one of my favorite characters (:

To _Sterope: _I sincerely hope you like this chapter as well! Thank you for your praises!

To _azulaiii: _I hope this chapter is just as great!

To _Kira-Hope: _Ah, no offence taken! Good luck on your stories!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Indeed (:

To _vswimming12: _Thankies! … And so I decided to update for you to jump for joy once again…

To _Vampiress Idrial: _Here it is!

To _(no name): _Thank you! (Accepts love).

To _bubbz: _Here 'tis!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thankies!

To _HinaHime2: _Thanks! Hope you like this chapter as well!

To _niiary: _Nope, you're English is quite exceptional (; Thank you for your comments… it's not everyday an author can make his/her readers cry.

To _west marauder: _Thanks! Here it is!

To _your fans: _Ha, I love the name (: I'll try to incorporate that ASAP…

To _west sarcasm: _Thank you so much for those praises! Go Tomione!

**Change- **_**verb**_

**1.**_ To make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone_

**2.**_ To transform or convert_

**3. **_To transfer from one (conveyance) to another._

**4.**_ To become different. _

He was laying on the bed with his Slytherin-green covers drawn up to his chin when Hermione stepped into the room again, hot tea at the ready.

Her eyebrows immediately shot up to her hair line when she saw the young Dark Lord, sprawled on his bed… no, 'sprawled' was not the right word… more like… curled up? Yes, curled up. The Dark Lord was curled up into a tiny ball with his covers clenched into his fists.

It never occurred to her that Riddle actually _slept. _

As strange as it was, Hermione had always thought that Lord Voldemort did not eat, sleep, or drink, as normal people did. She simply could not imagine the snake-like monster curling up on his bed or eating some Kentucky Fried Chicken peacefully: killing was better suited for him.

It must have been her subconscious that labeled Riddle for the same thing. Riddle, after all, looked most certainly human. In fact, he looked quite peaceful as he slept: no worry lines were discernable, and his perfect face was free or all gory expressions. His chest rose and fell steadily (he actually needs to breathe?).

Hermione lightly placed the teacup on the nightstand next to Riddle. The tea within the cup that was _almost _poisoned…

Her previous actions nearly killed her own inner mind. How could she do this? Again and again, Harry and Ron's accusing tones penetrated her mind:

"_Hermione! How could you do this? You had the chance to kill him in his rare vulnerable state…"_

"_Are you trying to prove Lupin right or something?"_

"_Are you barmy? Did you take some pill? Are you on drugs?"_

"_This is not a game! People will die –" _

She would have wrung her hands and screamed: '_shut up!' _if not for Riddle's peacefully sleeping slumber.

Hermione knew the weight of her decision. Instead of playing brave, heroic Gryffindor and saving everyone's lives from any more horror, she had went for caring, second-chance giving… Dumbledore?

Was this what Dumbledore would have done?

In her mind's eye, she saw the old headmaster's twinkling blue eyes and the smile that was nearly always set on his lips. Silvery hair framed that ancient and wise face…

Everyone called Professor Dumbledore wise.

There is a significant difference in between intelligence and wisdom. Intelligence, as Hermione was known for, could be acquired. You can read countless books and study infinite hours and you will be known as intelligent. A teacher can teach you intelligence.

Wisdom, however, was different. Wisdom was acquired through past experiences: through mistakes and watching other people. It cannot be read through books and a teacher cannot teach it to you. Wisdom was the ability to make good decisions.

Hermione bit her lip. Was her decision wise?

"_You will acquire wisdom once you realize whether or not you have made the right decision," _Professor Dumbledore chuckled. _"For now, be as good as you can be."_

"_And what is the perfect person?" _Hermione thought, wondering for all of insanity if Dumbledore would respond.

He did.

"_Cunningness, loyalty, intelligence, and courage," _Dumbledore answered, _"are four main traits of perfection. The four Houses were built out of these four characteristics. However, my own theory adds integrity and wisdom to the list." _

Hermione pondered this for a moment. Cunningness would give you ambition. Loyalty would give you trust. Intelligence would give you knowledge. Courage would give you bravery. Integrity would give you honesty. Wisdom would give you the ability to make good decisions.

If only she were like that.

Hermione sighed before turning around, realizing that she was still in Riddle's bedroom. Before she left, however, one grey eye peered open at her.

Hermione nearly screamed and had a heart attack right there and then.

"I… I thought you were asleep!"

A weak smirk made its way to his lips. "You're going?" he murmured, staring at her.

She bit her lip, blinking at him slowly. "Y-Yes… I… I have to… go…" she said lamely, knowing that her 'excuse' was as pathetic as it could ever get.

"Please stay," Riddle whispered quietly.

Hermione nearly jumped as in realization of his words. He wanted her to stay? He wanted her: _a filthy little mudblood, _to stay with him?

Oh goodness, pigs were going to start to fly next…

She stared at his expression: such an angelic look. It really did compliment his features, she mused silently. And here she was, torn between a charismatic Dark Lord with an angelic face and simply running (which was something she dearly wanted to do)…

"'Kay," she mouthed, no sound coming out of her throat. She didn't think she _would _be able to talk: this was so… surreal. Bizarre. Peculiar. Strange. Weird. Out of the ordinary. Odd. Uncanny. Eerie. Creepy. Supernatural. Paranormal.

_That's right, Hermione. Keep on listing more synonyms as if it is the last day on Earth… _

"Sit," Riddle motioned towards the edge of the bed casually.

Hermione cautiously inched over towards him, sitting down warily, never once putting her back to him.

You could practically feel the tension in between the two people, the close presence but still not quite touching creating lightning bolts of electricity in between them.

As if in some mysterious trance, Riddle lifted one arm to touch her face, lightly caressing her cheeks. If he saw her flinch, probably thinking that he was going to strike her, he did not show it.

Her skin was smooth and unblemished, and it felt like soft silk under his fingers. Riddle did not know what feeling this was, but it was strange and refreshing. Was it good? His brain said no. His heart…

Scratch that.

He had no heart.

At that thought, he snatched his arm back as if he were being Tasered by the mere touch of her skin.

"I… I need to get some fresh air," Hermione murmured vaguely, leaping up and scurrying out to the balcony. She threw open the double doors and ran towards the railing, taking in big breaths as she tried to calm her beating heart.

_Holy. Merlin. _

The Dark Lord just touched her cheek.

_On his own will. _

She searched for signs of flying pigs: anything to show that this was just some dream…

There wasn't.

Hermione smothered her own emotions when she had stared into the depths of his grey eyes, and instead, focused on the scenery. She gazed as the trees fringing the edges of the Riddle House and tried to depict even the little single leaves on every branch.

Her eyes dropped to the ground.

The balcony was high above the ground: her mind calculated about 60 ft. or so. She would certainly die of the fall if she jumped…

_Where did that come from? _

Hermione blinked and then blinked again. Tears were brought to her eyes when she thought of the past… weeks? Months...? That she had been here…

All of them were not happy memories.

They were of betrayal, lost of hope, pain, defeat…

She could leave it behind.

She honestly could…

Her survival instincts kicked in, screaming: _Harry! Ron! Ginny! Fight for them! _

Hermione bit her lip again.

_If you want to die, at least kill Riddle first, _a smarmy voice hissed in her head. Hermione chucked an invisible barrier at it.

No, no suicidal, she concluded.

Her curiosity was what brought her forward.

Hermione placed one foot on the rail and lifted the other one over. _No, I won't jump. I'm just… getting the feel… just in case. I won't jump… not now…_

She swung her other leg over as well, her heart thumping in her chest. The ground looked even further away than ever. Adrenaline had kicked in and her heart was on overdrive.

_Breathe, Hermione. Breathe. _

Hermione took deep breaths, looking at places that were at the same height as she was instead of the ground.

Suddenly, she was yanked backwards and swung over the rail: back to the balcony. But it didn't stop there. She was carried over into the room and thrown onto the bed, invisible binds leaping up and roping her down.

Hermione instinctively began to struggle against the binds, and she was stilled when she saw the blazing grey eyes of Tom Riddle.

"I… I wasn't going to do it," Hermione whispered, staring at his furious expression. He looked as if he was positively seething with anger.

In a blink, his face was composed.

"You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself of it," Riddle answered with no emotion.

Hermione gnawed at her lip (for the hundredth time) and looked away from it. Her actions completely scared her, and over and over again the scene replayed in her head. The tingling feeling down her spine. The sudden burst of adrenaline.

She felt the binds slither away from her limbs as if snakes that were retreating back to their holes.

The Gryffindor sat up blinking spastically when she realized that she was face to face with Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He looked so different to her. He was a murderer. He was a Dark Wizard. He was bloodthirsty and cruel. He was a snake…

He was human.

He had emotions.

He had regretted.

He had cared.

He rescued her.

He saved her.

So contradicting.

Hermione could feel his cool breath on her skin… could see every little inch of his beautiful face… could see his haunting grey eyes… could see his perfect lips…

…Could see him lean forward and kiss her.

It was different from the other kiss.

Instead of the aggressive spur-of-the-moment urge and the feelings of anger and betrayal pouring into their last kiss, this one was different. It was soothing and coaxing, as if trying to lead another person out into the sunlight. Her lips molded around his, and she never wanted to let go.

Hermione's arms twined around his neck, and his own arms brought her flush against his chest.

But good things only lasted so long.

Within a second, he was gone.

Riddle was standing on the other side of the room, shaking and trembling, with his eyes darkening every moment…

And with a _snap, _he left.

Hermione sat there, frozen as if a statue, staring at the place in which he had disapparated (somehow). Her lips were slightly open, and her eyes were wide.

What had just happened?

He had kissed her.

_Again. _

He instituted it…

And she let it continue…

She wanted it…

What the bloody hell is happening?

_Well it's not as if she fancied the Dark Lord or anything… _

Right?

Hermione pursed her lips together and began to collect herself back together.

_Think logic._

So Riddle had kissed her after he saved her. And then, he left. He simply left.

Was he scared?

She knew that he had never felt the extremity of such emotion before. Other than anger, all of his other emotions were either neutral or cruel. Never anything like this…

She didn't even know what 'this' was.

What was he going to do now?

Hermione jaw dropped in sudden realization. If powerful, maintain power. If vulnerable…

Show your power.

**Author's Notes: **I know, I know! _Really _short chapter! But important (right?)! I was really busy, and instead of waiting another day to update and writing a normal length chappie, I decided to quickly update today! So what'd you think of it? Do you like it? **Please review! **


	23. Black Hope

**Disclaimer: **Seriously? I really don't own Harry Potter! I can't see anyone presuming that…

**Author's Notes: **Yes, here it is, the one and only… Chapter 23! Yay! Let's see, anything for me to ramble off about? Eh… No, other than I am a proud owner of some light-up shirt… and a friend of mine owes me a Coca-Cola from Washington D.C… oh! And I am not sure if this will affect my updates, but I am in serious need to study for the SSATs in which I am taking very soon… ANYHOW. Don't worry, I have the entire rest of this story planned out (save for perhaps the ending… I'm facing a serious dilemma) and I won't be stuck suddenly with the writers' block (until the ending…). As usual, **please review! **

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thankies!

To _Queenreebee: _Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it? I'm glad that you like this Tom… hot, isn't he?

To _vswimming12: _I'll try to always update as soon as possible! That was sort of like… a treat for Halloween.

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Eh… I'll take the handshake (: I suppose that part as to if Hermione would've jumped or not is up to the reader to decide. Hopefully, there will be more kisses…

To _Vampiress Idrial: _Thank you for your thoughts! I'll be sure to provide something of an explanation to that.

To _britstar4: _Thank you so much!

To _azulaiii: _Thank you! It always bothers me when I post short chapters… it makes me feel like I'm not working hard enough (:

To _Devani: _I'm sorry that you didn't like it. However, what needs more detail: the chapter or the story? Please include more specific advice! Anyhow, thank you anyways for your thoughts!

To _niiary: _Thank you so much!

To _Kira-Hope: _I'm glad that I can make a totally unrealistic pairing seem… realistic! Thank you!

To _west marauder sarcasm: _Thank you! Don't worry: I have the entire rest of the story planned out… except for the ending. At the ending, I face a dilemma… anyhow, enjoy!

To _Order of Dawn: _Ha thank you so much!

**Wisdom – **_**noun **_

**1.**_ The quality or state of being wise; knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight._

**2.**_ Scholarly knowledge or learning_

**3.**_ Wise sayings or teachings; precepts _

Fear and adrenaline was mixed together as she leapt straight up from her dazed trance on the bed. Realization and anxiety lighted her eyes with a fearful dose of determination.

Every evil man (or woman) needed to feel reassured of their own power by either them or some other individual. Despite the magnitude of any physical power or magic that they may have, there will always be a doubt. People of the darker heart depended always on themselves, and can only learn to trust their own judgment. Because of some doubt of their own judgment, they may need to go through more extremities.

Tom Riddle had just felt something, Hermione was sure. By the way his eyes and the emotion within them just seemed to be unfolding layer by layer proved that. There had been raw emotion radiating from his existence.

Alas, Hermione herself doubted herself as well. How could she, a bookworm of the Gryffindor House that just happened to be friends with the famed Harry Potter, make the evil Dark Lord feared by all of the Wizarding World feel any sort of emotion other than hate? How could she, a lowly muggleborn with the meaningless surname of 'Granger', make the Dark Lord look at her not-so-glorious face without the thoughts 'kill, torture, kill, torture' written all across his eyes?

She could see where all of his past hate was sourced. Hermione could only blame his father: such a cruel man, turning his back on his own son. If Riddle had had the kindest parents in the world, he would have been a charmed young man, wouldn't he?

Hermione pushed these contemplating thoughts out of her head. There was no time for this. She needed to find Riddle soon. She needed to find Riddle _now. _Whatever he was doing, someone was going to be hurt.

She darted nimbly toward the door, nearly yanked it off of its hinges, and then dashed down the hall. Hermione did not know where she was going: not that it mattered too much. She was too crazed to go through a logical explanation. All the Gryffindor was conscious of thinking was running desperately toward the girls' shared bedroom. It was a gut feeling that drove her to run there first.

Panting heavily from the sprint, Hermione threw the door open and saw the girls sitting together in a loose circle, some heads bent, others' eyes tearful.

Kaitlyn was sitting in the corner, as per usual, though her own emerald eyes were haunted and hollow. Her flaming hair seemed dimmer somehow, as if matching her expression. Lifting a pale finger, she beckoned Hermione over.

Hermione obliged, silently making her way towards her while glancing around uneasily. What had happened?

"Vyxeria, Seraythe, and Amourette," Kaitlyn whispered hoarsely, eyes saddened with unshed tears as she stared at a place on the ground. "They were called by… _Him… _and it doesn't seem like they will ever come back."

Hermione froze, eyes wide with shock. "Wh-_What?" _she sputtered, finding it hard to keep her voice down. In the absolute silence, even in her quiet voice it seemed rudely loud.

Could it be?

Because of her…

Riddle had killed three girls?

That heartless bastard! How could she have other thought that he could change…

True, Vyxeria and Seraythe had turned against her once they thought that she was the cause of Kriste's death. But they were both _human. _Vyxeria had grinned at her mischievously and Seraythe had smiled kindly. They were sensitive girls that haven't been exposed to this cruelty until now. They didn't know the wrath of Voldemort. It was only too easy for them to turn against her.

And Amourette.

Amourette was the first girl (other than Yvette) that Hermione had met. Amourette Kristalinne had believed in her since the beginning, had supported her through everything. She was kind and caring. She was intelligent. She was loyal. She was one of the bravest Beauxbatons that dared to enter the Goblet of Fire selecting.

And she was dead.

Hermione closed her eyes and saw the three girls, smiling one moment and dead the other. Pale corpses that would never move, blood no longer running in their veins, eyes blank with no emotion left to give. Hearts no longer pounding, lips that would never curve upwards in a smile, laughs that would never erupt from their chests.

"There was a red-haired girl," Kaitlyn breathed out, lips barely moving as she continued. "She was only here for a moment. A pureblood. Weasley."

Hermione's eyes snapped open and focused on Kaitlyn. "Weasley? Red-haired?" She was immediately on her feet. "Ginny? Was it Ginny? Ginevra Weasley? Where is she?"

Kaitlyn turned to stare at her. "Death Eaters came in to take her. Apparently, today was a Meeting," she said strangely. "You might be able to catch her though. You can save her and be brave."

The pureblood's words confused her. However, the only part that registered in Hermione's dulled brain were: _'You might be able to catch her though.' _Abruptly, she once again ran into the cold and stark hallways, vaguely noticing that there were no portraits hanging around, and then ran straight towards that Throne Room, in which she had seen before.

Hermione clenched her fists in desperate hope.

_Please let Ginny still be alive, please let Ginny still be alive… _

She nearly shattered the door as she ripped it open.

There was a scary sight.

A blood-red carpet stretched from the opening of the door to the platform. Gray stone slabs covered the floors and walls, and a silver chandelier hung from the ceiling with snakes twined around the handle. Green flames licked up from the torches from left to right, creating an eerie light that radiated from the flames.

Many Death Eaters were kneeling on the ground on both sides of the aisle, hoods on to smother their identities and faces, and black cloaks pooling on the ground. She could see some people shaking in fear.

In front of her were Seraythe, Vyxeria, and Amourette. It was exactly like how she saw it in her mind: pale, bloodless bodies strewn across the ground. However, she did not expect Katie Bell among them as well.

Hermione's eyes trailed over to the body that was crumpled on the ground but still breathing.

Ginny.

Her flaming red hair was tumbling down her shoulders, somehow still sleek as it clashed with the strange green light from the torches. Her face was smashed to her knees, her entire slender body curled up in pain. Eyes closed tightly as if desperately wishing to be in another place, her fists were clenched until her knuckles were white. Blood dribbled down from her mouth.

It sickened her to see her best friend like this.

"Stop!" Hermione cried, running into the room and draping her arms around the younger girl's trembling body. Ginny raised her head slightly, fear radiating from the depths of her eyes. The Death Eaters murmured and shifted uneasily while some of the insane ones (Bellatrix) were chuckling.

Riddle was standing on the raised platform, smirk in place and a cool mask slipped on.

"Let her go," Hermione whispered, hugging her friend tightly as if to reassure her in this god-forsaken place.

A cold laugh answered her, and she looked up with imploring brown eyes only to see the triumphant expression on the Dark Wizard's face.

"And what, _Meus Leana? _Let the little blood-traitor scamper off to what you call friends? Haven't you heardthat your little 'friends' don't believe in you anymore, love?"

Hermione did not answer. Those words that left those perfectly carved lips only spoke truth, in a rather cruel way mind you, but the truth all the same. It hit close to the heart, and it sent a wave of sadness and anger through her body. Silent tears threatened to leak out of her eyes, and she was doing all that she could to suppress them.

"H-Hermione," Ginny rasped, so quietly that the rest of the Death Eaters had to strain to hear. Blood gurgled out of her mouth, tinting her lips a bright red. "H-Hermione. If he k-kills m-m-me…"

"Don't," Hermione said sternly.

Ginny shook her head slightly, cringing in pain even at this slight movement. "I need to s-say this…" she hissed as forcefully as she could, causing Hermione fell silent. Satisfied, she went on: "I'm s-s-sorry that I-I ran away… t-tell H-Harry and Ron that I l-l-love them… You are l-like a sister to me… I love Mum…"

"I know, Ginny. I know," Hermione cooed softly, wrapping her arms around her.

There was a dark chuckle from the perfectly carved angel who stood confidently from his throne. "Touching–– Gryffindors. Sometimes, you can all be as emotional as Hufflepuffs, the lot," Riddle sneered.

Hermione spat in his direction.

However, instead of the flash of pain that the Cruciatus Curse brought, she felt Ginny moving away from her. Eyes flickering in surprise to her friend, she saw that Riddle had cast a spell to move her away.

"No!" Hermione hissed, shooting up and moving to stand in front of her friend.

"Move and your little red-haired friend dies," Riddle threatened, wand teetering as if preparing for the Unforgivable.

Hermione bit her lip.

"Good," Riddle smirked. "_Very _good. Now, _Ginevra," _he turned to face Ginny.

On Ginny's face were a variety of emotions. Fury, hurt, pain, regret, and most of all, fear. Hermione understood perfectly.

In Ginny's first year, she had unfortunately discovered Tom Riddle's diary. Pouring all of her life into the aged pages of the leather-bound book, she had unconsciously bound her power to his. Riddle had begun to live on her life-power, feeding on it to become stronger. Soon, he began to control her.

Ginny began to fear the person in whom she had thought was caring and could understand her.

To meet that charismatic boy once again must have been something in which she would only think she would meet in her nightmares. Ginny had frequently confessed to Hermione in the passed years of the nightmares in which none other than Tom Riddle had haunted, and Hermione had nothing other to do than to provide comfort.

Riddle's lips quirked: as if he was reminiscing in these memories as well. But Hermione knew that he wasn't, for he was only the Riddle from the past, and had no way of remembering this event other than if someone informed him of it. "How are you, _Ginny?" _

Ginny began trembling once again, eyes wide with fright as if a deer in front of a spotlight.

"Your ignorance is rude and impolite. Where are your manners?"

Ginny remained silent: silence was the best defiance that could be administered.

Riddle narrowed his eyes and raised his wand, shooting a bright purple light towards the Weasley. It was a spell that Hermione could not recognize, undoubtedly a Dark curse that would deliver indescribable pain.

However, one spell interrupted it and sent it shooting to a strange angle, hitting one of the lesser Death Eaters and causing him to double over in pain, his cries like nails on chalkboard.

There was only a millisecond pause to allow the shock to sink in.

Hermione's head snapped towards Ginny's protector.

It was Blaise.

Yes, _Blaise Zabini. _

For a girl who had just expected to be hit with a painful curse, Ginny looked like she was flying high. Of course, she could only be as giddy as a teenage girl who had a crush on a dark Italian guy in front of the Dark Lord… Which is certainly not saying much.

Another curse flew out of Zabini's wand, briefly distracting everyone with a flash of blinding light. Hermione could only barely see Blaise leap forward and grab Ginny, throwing her over his shoulder as if she barely weighed anything. He tried to reach Hermione, but alas, he failed as the Dark Lord himself intercepted, hissing a spell furiously to form an invisible barrier.

Blaise was intent on keeping Ginny on his back, deflecting spells from Riddle himself. Hermione fought against the barrier, only to be defeated again and again.

Zabini, she knew, was an intelligent and skilled wizard. But he could only fight against the darkest wizard of all time _and _several of his Death Eaters for only so long. Fighting the Death Eaters themselves was already hard enough. Or rather, a fight against Tom Riddle was virtually impossible to win.

Hermione rammed against the barrier, shouting as she tried to knock down the wall. Her eyes flickered from the sea of Death Eaters, to Zabini, to Ginny, and finally to Riddle.

It was ironic how she hadn't listed Zabini as a Death Eater.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, and then closed her eyes. She summoned the power from within her heart, her mind, and her soul, feeling magic well up inside of her. It bubbled and shimmered like a golden lake, building up with more and more layers of magic.

She opened her eyes, focusing on the invisible barrier. Suddenly, it seemed as if it could be seen. The silver threads of magic was woven together, stiff and strong, and condensed with steel. Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on every little curl of Riddle's wall, and with all of her strength, she cried out:

"_Finite Incantatem!" _

Blue light rippled out of her body, and she watched, entranced, as the silvery threads of magic unwove itself, turning into all but minimal wisps. She brushed these remaining traces of magic aside, rushing straight towards Riddle.

His eyebrows were drawn together in strict concentration towards Zabini, who was, miraculously, shielding himself rather well. It occurred to her that perhaps he had planned this all along… if that was possible, that is.

Hermione launched herself at him, knocking him over and breaking his line of vision towards the fleeing duo. She planted herself down, curling her hands on his wrists placing pressure on his knee joints to prevent him from being able to get up. They wrestled for his wand, him keeping a strong grip on it and Hermione preventing him from using it.

Could he do wandless magic as well?

Of course…

How could she distract him?

A brief picture of her kissing him feverishly passed her mind, but she brushed it away, calling it 'absolutely preposterous'.

It was a spur-of-a-moment thing, and really, it was to keep _her _from kissing _him. _

She grabbed his hair and yanked it.

_Yes, _the _Hermione Granger _just yanked _Tom Riddle's _nearly always-immaculate hair.

Well, at least now she knew that he had silky hair…

… For any possible future reference.

Riddle had hissed and thrown her off of him, eyes blazing and hair askew. They were alone now–– all of the other Death Eaters were probably chasing Zabini and Ginny down…

The two just stared at each other, glaring and scowling. Riddle's wand-hand twitched slightly, but he did not utter a spell.

"Why?" Hermione asked, a question that she asked a lot now. "Why did you kill all of them?"

The fire in his eyes dimmed.

"That is none of your business," Riddle spat back, though the rigorous belief in his words weren't at all apparent.

Hermione gulped slightly, breathing evenly through her nose. "They were innocent…"

"Do you think I care?"

She recoiled as if slapped.

"You _should. _You are human, _I _know that; _you _know that," Hermione snapped back, gaining some of her confidence and Gryffindor bravery/courage back.

Somewhere inside of her, she was doing a mini victory dance. After all, Ginny had gotten away (she prayed) and Zabini was able to be trusted. It was silent outside, so this was safe for her to assume.

But somewhere deep within her heart, she felt disheartened. She knew that Zabini had done his best…

She just missed home so, so much.

But the real question was:

If she went home, would she still be welcomed?

**Author's Notes: **Yes, I finally got this chapter done! Very important! As a side note, Taylor Swift's new album 'Speak Now' is out! And yes, I am a fan of Taylor Swift... Back on the subject of this story now. I suppose this is the beginning of the end (part 3 starts next chapter). I hope you all liked this chappie! **Please review and give me your feedback!**


	24. Part Three: Sometimes I Can't Believe

**Disclaimer: **No, I am not J.K. Rowling. No, I am not J.K. Rowling. No, I am not J.K–– don't you get the point yet?

**Author's Notes: **Yes, here it is, chapter 24! I'm still wondering how I got this far without quitting… perhaps it was because of your reviews (wink)? On the other hand… I can't wait for Harry Potter 7 to come out! It's already out in England, isn't it? I'm so jealous… Five more days to wait for me… Today, on the news, I saw that New York was having this 'mock Quidditch game', where people took brooms and ran around, trying to shoot balls into hoops or whatever. It was epically hilarious! Am I rambling? Because I feel like I'm rambling… On to it then! I was in the mood for long answers to reviews (sort of) so brace yourselves!

To _Buckbeak Ate My Wand: _Yeah, I admit, their relationship is quite extraordinary. Thank you!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you, thank you, and thank you! Insider of what I'm thinking as I read this review: _Merlin, I do love this reviewer! _I think I usually update around the weekend… if I get in an update in time, that is (:

To _EYESviolet: _Oh, well, hello Chi-chi! Thankies, dear. Is it just me or do your reviews usually revolve around: _I love my hungry Nott _(with more 'u' in hungry, of course); _I love my Drakie, _etc.? No? Alright then… Well, as you can see, I am going to keep writing before you "decapitate me, throw my head down a hole that leads to Russia, sold to a taxidermist, have a strange facial expression, ground into meat, fed to albino, rabid crocodiles, get dissected, and made into an atomic bomb" (as a summary)… because I would really rather that didn't happen (:

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you (:

To _niiary: _I try my best to update ASAP! Ah… well… I hope your geometry homework wasn't due the next day, and if it was, I hope you didn't say: "oh, blame it on chrissytingting who just had to write this dark story about killing people and falling in love…" Thank you, an do consider that as a compliment!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Thank you so much! I guess I'm trying to make Hermione stronger again.

To _Rena Katsueki: _Thank you! At times, I really do want to push Tom and Hermione to like each other, but then again, I'd probably get flamed within six seconds I post, if you know what I mean. My English class was studying this book, and wisdom and intelligence were two of the main traits (: I actually changed my mind (again!) and decided to take the long way in this story and make it even longer, so there is still one more part that I haven't started yet… And even though I think I flunked the SSATs, I do like your advice. _Very _much (:

To _Kira-Hope: _Here it is! Thank you!

To _: _First: _wow _that's a long username! I love Taylor Swift, and I'm obsessed with 'Last Kiss'… Which goes on for what, six minutes? And the coke from D.C. isn't quite special (I don't think?) but he's going there for this school fieldtrip and instead of getting me a postcard, he decided to get me coke (: Thank you!

To _P.G: _Thank you so much!

To _azulaiii: _Oh, yes, I don't read Hermione/Snape, despite that fact that there probably are some good ones out there! I was always a fan of Ginny and Blaise though (: I hope you like this chapter.

To _west i-hate-you-right-now: _The first thing I thought when I saw your username was: "oh god, this is not good…" Ha! Anyhow, I actually didn't intend for it to be a cliffhanger (oops?) but I guess it's all for the suspense, eh? Thank you!

To _itsmidnighthere: _Really? I'm so happy! I've always been regretting how I wrote the beginning of the story, thinking that I should've launched straight to the darkness and whatnot, but I'm glad that you still read this! Thank you so much!

To _candyrose1428: _Thank you so much! The entire plot is quite complicated, I admit…

To _britstar4: _Thank you!

To _Patricia95: _I was so happy when I saw this review! I was feeling down after taking the SSATs, and then, I read this review! Thank you so much! Is Tom going to change? Perhaps. I'm still in my dilemma for the ending, always changing decisions and whatnot. I'll _try _not to leave an open ending though, because I absolutely _loathe _them. Ha, you probably _are _older than me… but that's alright (:

I want to dedicate this to _Wicked Sapphira, _who recommended this song! I know it's dark, but…

_All of my hate cannot be bound  
I will not be drowned by your  
Thoughtless scheming  
So you can try to tear me down  
Beat me to the ground I will see you screaming  
All my friends are gone  
They died (gonna take you down)  
They all screamed, and cried  
I'm gonna take you down  
Gonna take you down_

_-Evanescence (originally by Korn), Thoughtless_

**Part Three: Sometimes I Can't Believe**

_"You __should. __You are human, __I __know that; __you __know that," Hermione snapped back, gaining some of her confidence and Gryffindor bravery/courage back._

Riddle just narrowed his eyes, and Hermione knew that she was bordering in danger. She couldn't afford to lose her temper now…

Never soothe someone just to rile them up once again.

"Am I, _Meus Leana?" _Riddle turned to her, a strange expression crossing his perfect Adonis face. "Am I human?"

She held his gaze, fighting to keep her expression cool and detached. Hermione studied his eyes carefully, seeing every detail and streak of grey in those beautiful eyes. He seemed very much human.

_However… _

Yes, the key word, _however… _

The scene in which she had just witnessed proved otherwise. The way he had killed so many of the people that she loved and cared for cannot be overlooked. Hermione had shed tears, screamed into her pillow at night, and nearly ripped out handfuls of her brown hair over Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Even is she separated Riddle and Voldemort's identities, the list of people in which he had murdered seemed endless.

That wasn't human.

Hermione would never forget how she saw him standing in the room with the bloodless bodies of innocent girls dead at his feet. She would never forget how he had tortured Ginny and sent Death Eaters into the dingy dungeons to torment young children.

Those deeds weren't human.

Because, all in all, _human _was someone who had a heart. _Human _was someone who was _humane. _

Riddle was either an exception to that definition or he simply was not _human. _

Hermione peered closer at him. She didn't know why she was so determined to prove him human, to prove that he could feel compassion. But there was a gut feeling that somewhere underneath that cold mask, there was a beating heart that was very much alive.

_He had felt remorse, _Hermione thought, _after he murdered that little girl. _

Riddle's question still hovered in the air, and, truth be told, Hermione didn't know how to answer.

His lip curled. "That's what I thought. Come here with me," he beckoned with a pale finger as he turned around, cloak swishing slightly against the cold slate floor. He comfortably sat on his throne, sipping something from a goblet.

Hermione didn't do a thing. She was well aware that he could simply _make _her go wherever he wanted her to go, but she wasn't going to lose her head and defiance despite her thoughts on if he was human or not.

Riddle raised a perfect eyebrow, an amused quirk on his lips becoming perceptible. "Suit yourself, _Meus Leana," _he leered, as if knowing something that she didn't. He looked confident that she would be by his side any second.

However, Hermione never felt the sucking sensation of Apparition and was not summoned by his side. Confused and slightly smug, she looked at him, only to be disappointed to see him at ease.

There were shuffling noises behind her, all barely audible, and the sounds proved that they were getting closer. Hermione whipped around, poised on her toes and ready to take flight (not quite literally) if needed, even though she knew that it would be useless.

There were so many of them. The Death Eaters, all cloaked, were streaming into the room… _one… two… three… ten… fifteen… _

At least _thirty. _

Hermione found herself backing up, unconsciously leaning away from the murderers that so cowardly followed Riddle…

Her foot hit something hard, and she realized that she had already backed all the way towards Riddle, who was smirking at her knowingly with that accusatory 'I told you so' look. It was so immature that she blinked spastically, wondering if she was going barmy.

The smirk had left Riddle's face, leaving his countenance cold and unyielding. The Death Eaters had stopped moving, all of them on their knees with their heads bowed. Hermione could detect some bodies that were trembling in fear: fear of Lord Voldemort's wrath.

"You have failed," Riddle spoke, coldness seeping into his tone. Any person that was blind could tell that he was master and the others were merely pawns in his game of chess. His voice held such hostility that it probably frosted the high windows, and the Death Eaters all shivered as if a cold breeze had passed over them.

Hermione could barely see any similarity in between the Riddle who had been nearly vulnerable before and the Riddle who now stood as the Lord. Never had he used this cold of a voice on her before, she realized, surprised. Despite the many times in which he had sneered, smirked, and leered at her, he had never said anything to her like _this. _

How ironic that he was colder towards his own followers.

Riddle began laughing, a bass chuckle, that struck fear in all of their hearts. "How," he inquired, "could one, adolescent boy in his _sixth year _outwit all of you?" His voice echoed in the chambers, filled with ominous amusement.

The Death Eaters dared not breathe, heads hanging in shame.

"He is a _traitor," _Riddle spat. "Are any of you?"

Silence.

"I believe I asked a question," he hissed, voice deadly quiet. He watched as panicked looks flew across his servants, all hoping that someone would step up.

The only confident person in the room walked forward. Her wild, black hair was even more untamed than usual, eyes filled with respect for her lord.

"My Lord," Bellatrix said, every note filled with sincerity, "nothing means more than serving you with every shred of loyalty I have." She bowed.

Riddle watched her with penetrating grey eyes that were nearing a dangerous black. "Bella," he said pleasantly. "Tell me… how did the traitor slip from your grip? This gives me reason to doubt your talent and claims."

Bellatrix's expression immediately filled with horror. "My Lord," she answered immediately. "I had every intention to strike him down and lay his blood on these floors for you. However, _one fellow Death Eater _chose to hold me back to capture the traitor himself."

"Oh?" Riddle raised one eyebrow, twirling his wand in one hand lazily.

"Yaxley," Bellatrix hissed, eyes narrowing and flickering to one side, as if trying to see him without turning her back on her master.

"Yaxley."

"My… my Lord." One cloaked Death Eater stepped forward, bowing clumsily. "I… I only wanted to be the one to please you… M-My Lord…"

"_Crucio," _Riddle hissed, a sadistic smile gracing his lips as he watched Yaxley's expression immediately twist and a tortured scream erupt from his lips. He clawed at his neck as if trying to get out of the skin that he was in, blood gurgling out of his mouth.

With some reluctance, Riddle released the curse. He sighed as the feeling of absolute domination and power leave. In front of him, sweating and heaving, Yaxley was trembling and bloodied. Riddle stared at him for a couple of seconds.

"That was for your lack of good judgment. Mulciber, take him away."

A dark-haired wizard immediately obeyed, grabbing Yaxley's weak form and yanking him towards the door. Hermione could detect a glimmer of relief in his eyes to be out of the way of the furious Dark Lord.

The Gryffindor was utterly disgusted from what she had just viewed. Not only did Riddle torture his enemies, he tortured those who were on his side as well.

"Any others that can pledge their loyalty to me?" His voice was tantalizing, taunting his prey to come forward and bow respectfully to him.

Avery, shaking from head to toe, stepped forward, just barely keeping himself from stumbling. He lifted off his hood in respect, walking forward and kissing the hem of his master's robes.

"My Lord," he whispered hoarsely. "I bring only loyalty to you."

"How have you not been able to overpower the traitor?"

Avery bit his lip. "My Lord, it was merely that I was not used to harming a fellow Death Eater."

_Wrong answer. _

Riddle laughed coldly, eyes flashing. "If you bring only loyalty to me, you will not question my judgment when I say to capture. If you bring only loyalty to me, you will not hesitate to harm anyone. Such _lies." _

"My Lord!" sweat was beading his forehead now. "I… I only wanted to bring him back unharmed so that you could punish him…"

"Your _ignorance _is simply _astounding," _Riddle answered, darkly amused. "You put in danger the escape of _both _blood-traitors by thinking of bringing him back unharmed. Tell me, Avery, when have you paused to think of something such as that? When I have given you every explicable instruction to _not harm Potter, _what did you do?"

"My Lord..."

"Silence!" he barked. Within seconds, Avery was on the floor, puking blood and his arm (the one that did not hold his wand) beginning to twist painful, as if being unscrewed from his socket. He screamed and screamed, watching with wide, pained eyes as his arm uncorked from his body and blood poured out.

"Dismissed!" Riddle hissed viciously, flicking his wand and ending the dark curse. The Death Eaters immediately dispersed, one dragging a whimpering Avery, not one person finding the guts to say one word.

Hermione was completely still and silent. She was completely horrified with the scene that she had just witnessed, her eyes wide and doe-like.

"Leave," Riddle said to her, his magic crackling around him angrily.

Under normal circumstances, she would have defiantly stood there and challenged him. But the pained look of his face showed that he was dangerously close to strangling someone, and she certainly did not want to be that 'someone'.

O

Hermione swiftly set her pace at a jog, not wanting to look suspicious if she mad dashed down the hallways but not wanting to be so slow that the Death Eaters would _'crucio' _her the moment they saw her.

She reached the main living room quite quickly, relaxing slightly when she saw the neutral yet warm beige colors. However, that calmness was short lasting, and she was immediately tense again when she saw Draco Malfoy lounged like a cougar on one of the sofas.

How could he be of ease in the Riddle house?

She did not know.

"Granger," Malfoy looked at her, grey eyes hard and indifferent.

Hermione studied him carefully, assessing the situation that she was in. Malfoy didn't change that much since the last time she saw him (Malfoy Manor). There were still dark circles under his eyes, his skin was still paler than the moon, his hair was white-blonde, and his lips were curled into a permanent smirk.

"Malfoy," she responded, quite hesitantly.

Draco lifted his hand, wand intact, and waved it. The Gryffindor immediately tensed. "What did you just do?"

"Silenced the room," he answered, though not in the same arrogant and holier-than-thou behavior that she was used to. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

He stood up, walking over to her, not in a threatening manner, but simply casual. "Because we don't want anyone overhearing this conversation."

Hermione felt inexplicably scared of Draco Malfoy. She knew that it wasn't rational: they way his entire demeanor was only meant to be acquaintances, not enemies, and he was not allowed to hurt her in any way.

"Blaise always wanted to rebel," he commented, as if talking about the weather. "He always had a soft heart."

Hermione stared at him blankly.

"He never dared to tell me about his fancy for Weaslette," Malfoy continued.

Silence.

Malfoy turned to stare at her, grey eye blank and unemotional. "What are you going to do now that he has escaped?"

"That's none of your business, Malfoy," Hermione answered, just as coolly. She really couldn't see where this was going, and she really didn't care.

But she could still remember the words that Zabini had spoken to her. It was something about 'Malfoy isn't bad', or somewhere along that line. She peered at him curiously, wondering and recklessly hoping that he would try to fight for the Light.

"Blaise would die immediately if the Dark Lord found him," he commented.

"Would you just spit it out already?" Hermione demanded, patience running thin.

Malfoy bristled indignantly. "I don't have to help you, _Granger. _But I will anyways. I'll help you because I want to be the opposite of my father. I'm not doing it for you. And I won't help you like some servant of yours or have all that 'understanding' shit like Blaise did. Good day." He turned around abruptly, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared at where he had left. Gaping, her brain slowly processed what had just happened. Using one arm, she shut her jaw to prevent any flies from flying in.

Holy. Merlin.

Malfoy had just said that he would help the Light.

It was like a dream come true.

Not really…

But it was like a dream come true in this dark place anyhow. Good enough.  
Something on the coffee table caught her sharp eyes. There, on parchment, was a scribbled note out of ink:

_There have been traces of Potter and Weasley. They've created an impressing army to fight. So far, they've attacked Hogsmeade, the northern part of London, and an extension of the Ministry. There have been hints that they will attack here soon. _

There was no signature, but it was undoubtedly the script of Draco Malfoy. Her heart pounded in her throat.

Traces of Harry and Ron?

Impressing army?

Attacking?

This was simply not making sense. They were creating an army to fight? Was the Final War coming soon? Would she be able to be there and fight?

So many questions, but no answers.

She longed to hear their voices again, see their mischievous eyes, and scold them for not finishing their homework. Hermione just hoped that there would be a future for that.

There was a black rose on the polished brown table before her, a dark obsidian color that made it mysteriously beautiful.

"It's a magical rose," a soft voice whispered behind her.

Hermione turned around to find Prere's petite figure, a sad smile on her face. It was heartbreaking to see the young girl so buried in grief and horror.

"Really? How?" Hermione turned to stare at the innocent flower.

"It's called the _Atrum Angelus," _Prere answered, "which translates into English as––"

"Dark Angel," Hermione breathed, entranced at how the delicate folds of the rose curled together elegantly, and how the color was so dark that it didn't look like it was withering.

Prere nodded solemnly. "It's enchanted to change color. When it's black, it means that darkness commands, and there is no peace. When it's red, it means irrevocable love. When it's white with a silvery-blue hue, it means that peace rules the lands. A violent purple may mean tragedy and heartbreak."

"So darkness commands," she whispered, looking at the dark color.

"Yes," Prere sighed. "It's been like that for months."

**Author's Notes: **Finally, finished with this chapter! I found this very hard to write… I hope you liked it. I actually _really _don't like this chapter. If feel like it is lacking in so many ways… there's just something wrong with it.

If any of you are ever looking for some catchy music that would make you feel better, I recommend 'The Show' by Lenka.

Until next time!


	25. Sometimes I Wish

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the wonderful and fantastic world of 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **HOLY FRIGGIN CRAP HARRY POTTER SEVEN IS OUT! –Takes a deep breath– Yes, it was absolutely wonderful! I waited until I saw it before I wrote this chapter (just in case it changed my perspective. So now that I got that out of my system… Here is chapter 25 (with a very long author's note).

Yes, I've started yet _another _fanfiction called **'Warrior of My Heart'** and I hope you'll check it out! It's a Dramione, I simply got it from a dream I had (now I'm sounding like Stephenie Meyer) and I think I'm being ridiculously impulsive by trying to balance three fanfictions on my plate! _However, _I'd like to state that _Time of our Destiny_ is my highest priority. It's this story I update the most, this one that I'd like to finish (and not rush through), and this one that's on my mind through the day! I LOVE YOU ALL FOR GETTING ME TO 200 REVIEWS. A special mention to 'sNAPpyDraGon' for being my 200th reviewer! **Please review! **

To _vswimming12: _Why, thank you! I just thought that that chapter was… missing some essence. I hope you like this chapter as well!

To _west carson girl: _Thank you! I'll write this chapter on Harry and the other people since you want it, and I hope you enjoy it!

To _Order of dawn: _Thank you! (I would be too lazy to beg too lol).

To _(no name): _Ah, yes, I wouldn't know. Alas, he forgot it anyhow and now owes me two Cokes from anywhere, really. I've only gone to D.C. when I was… what, three? I don't remember a thing. Taylor Swift _is _awesome.

To _MusicIsLifeMD: _Thank you so much! I might actually use some of that in my story: it was quite touching! I try to update as soon as possible!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Thank you! I know how to play 'The Show' on the piano too! I'm in eighth grade, and yes, I'm ridiculously young compared to the other wonderful authors on this site!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Thank you! You are my 200th reviewer!

To _Kira-Hope: _Here it is!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _laurelley: _I'm glad that you can be honest with me on my writing! Thank you for the praises! I try to make my stories original. I am _almost _thirteen: my birthday is December 26th (yes, the day after Christmas)… My! I must apologize for my horrid (and deliciously evil) behavior! Influencing teenagers… bad!

To _niiary: _Thank you so much! Yes, my glorious reputation (not involving any murders of course) (:

To _britstar4: _Thank you!

To _azulaiii: _Thank you! I didn't quite get it either… no inspiration came along to help me.

To _Patricia95: _Ah, I love it when I hear that this story is messed up (ha). Thank you so much! I'll consider you 'not mad'… _even though you smiled and laughed through a torture session… _It _vaguely _reminds me of Bellatrix… And yes, I've finally added in some Draco! As for your English… are you sure it wasn't your first language? Seriously? It's great! Just some capitalization stuff (English with the capital 'E') and that's about it!

_He's there in the dark, he's there in my heart  
He waits in the wings, he's gotta play a part  
Trouble is a friend, yeah, trouble is a friend of mine  
So don't be alarmed if he takes you by the arm  
I won't let him win, but I'm a sucker for his charm  
Trouble is a friend, yeah, trouble is a friend of mine…  
Oh how I hate the way he makes me feel  
And how I try to make him leave, I try_

_-Lenka Marusak, Trouble is a Friend_

_Harry's POV _

We heard it: the _crack _and the rustle right outside of the Burrow. We felt the atmosphere change, and the magic shift. It was different: someone was there.

Mrs. Weasley was crying on Charlie's shoulder, crying for Ginny, crying for the lost families, and crying for this war. Her tearstains created a huge wet mark on the older Weasley's robes… but it just didn't matter anymore. It was just an insignificant detail of this devil-ensnared world.

The fact that Hermione's brilliant mind hadn't ever discovered some way to escape the Manor was bewildering. How had she, the brightest witch of her age, not managed to divulge some plan? Was she, dare he say it, dead?

_No, not dead, never dead. _

Harry sighed, pulling at his hair. It didn't help that Ginny had disappeared a couple of days ago. How could she be so impulsive? His heart beat erratically in his chest as he thought of Ginny: she was like his younger sister, a girl that he would forever protect.

Just like Hermione.

He had lost two sisters to the Dark Side.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away from Mrs. Weasley's sorrowful eyes. No tears would be shed on this subject. No, tears were the sign of mourning. And the first sign of grief meant that there was no hope.

Ginny and Hermione just could not be dead.

They were strong, and they were Gryffindors.

They cannot be dead.

Harry knew that all of the people standing there had glanced at him ever so often, watching his reaction. Only if he cried would the others give in, and only if he became angry would they curse the Death Eaters.

He didn't.

"Harry," Lupin said gravelly, his tired eyes suddenly alert. "Harry, the Death Eaters are here. The wards were lowered when we came back…"

Harry took a deep breath, his knuckles white from gripping his wand too tightly. "What do we do?" he hissed, as if preparing for a death-threat.

"We have to fight and get out," he answered, turning to address all those who were there. "Ron and Harry… we will protect you, and once you get out, Apparate _immediately. _Do you understand?"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, the same thoughts appearing in their eyes.

"I want to fight," Harry declared, voicing both of their thoughts. "I won't let you all get harmed for me… the least I can do is fight as well."

Lupin gave him a wry smile. "I knew that you were going to say that, Harry. So much like your father, always trying to be the noble one. But if you die, all hope is lost. If one of us gets hurt… It would not be as much as a loss to the Wizarding World. You will _promise _to leave immediately. Understood?" His professor voice had entered his tone near the end of his lecture. The no-nonsense and desperate voice tone made Ron and Harry exchange another look.

"Professor Lupin, I think it'd help _all _of us if we fought––"

"Ronald Weasley, you will _run," _Molly cut in, sniffing away her tears from before. "As your mother, I _order _you to do so… for your _safety _and everyone else's."

"But––"

There was a large bang, and a bright blue _'Reducto' _blasted the front door into smithereens. Wood chunks flew through the air and landed on the ground with unceremonious thuds. Four Death Eaters greeted them, masks glinting in the overcast skies. Undoubtedly, more were coming.

Lupin gave Ron and Harry a hard stare before launching himself into the meadow, firing a curse at one of them and flicking another towards the second. Charlie and Bill followed, and then the Weasley twins.

As the father of the household left, Molly Weasley suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the collars of Harry and Ron's robes.

"You will run," she said harshly, her love blazing in her eyes. "Go."

Harry and Ron sprinted outside, and immediately, the four Death Eaters fixed their greedy eyes on them. Oh, how their master would award them if they caught both the blood-traitor and Potter!

Before they could utter a spell, Lupin hissed a Stunner at one Death Eater and a Disarmer at another. Multiple _pops _were heard as more Death Eaters arrived, their black cloaks swirling and their wands flicking deadly spells that were meant to maim and kill.

"Run or not?" Ron hissed, eyes flickering to his family wistfully.

Harry's mind was jumbled. Dilemmas, dilemmas. How could he leave them behind? The Weasleys were just like his family, and he couldn't leave his family behind…

"Run, Harry!" Lupin roared as he saw the hesitant glance cross Harry's face. Lupin had a large gash running down his arm, blood soaking the grass. "Run, dammit! Go!"

"Harry, Ron… _go,"_ Tonks, who had suddenly materialized behind them, grabbed their shoulders firmly and yanked them back. "Remus, your brothers, and I will deal with this. You are no coward for leaving… _You are our hope." _

With those final words ringing in the air with raw power, Ron grabbed Harry's arm, and with a quick glance of understanding, they Disapparated.

O _Blaise's POV _O

Blaise wandered through the forest, carrying Ginny in his arms as he tiredly meandered along. The Death Eaters had given quite a chase, and with spells reflecting and colliding with great lights like fireworks, he had exhausted himself.

His betrayal had not gone without price. With his skin soaked in blood, some his, some of others, his breathing was irregular and his leg had a sharp pain in the knee as he limped.

"Blaise…" Ginny whispered, tiredly resting her head on his muscular shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, her eyes never leaving his. "Let's… rest."

Blaise nodded, unable to find the strength in himself to refuse. He placed her down against a tree, and then sat down himself, leaning back and taking in measured breaths.

"Let me heal you," Ginny breathed, lightly drifting her fingers across his arm. There were gashes that still oozed blood and bruises that must've been created by being hit the Muggle way.

Blaise stared at her warily, obsidian eyes assessing her with caution. One would never simply hand over a wand to another, especially if he didn't know if she trusted him.

Well, she better trust him. He just saved her goddamned life.

"Please," Ginny pleaded, watching him wince slightly when she prodded at a sore point. "You're hurt. Your wounds…"

Unable to refuse the offer to be healed once again, he drew out his polished ebony wand, lightly pressing it into her hands.

Ginny took it and traced it over the nastier wounds, whispering under her breath a simple healing spell. She thanked Hermione for teaching her that in the beginning of fifth year… it _just in case, _Hermione had said.

Hermione…

They hadn't been able to save her.

Ginny had seen Hermione launch herself bravely at the teenage Dark Lord, stopping him from attacking Zabini. Zabini wouldn't have lasted another second if Hermione had not intervened…

She was probably undergoing the Cruciatus Curse right now.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she thought of the brave Hermione Granger writhing in pain under Lord Voldemort's wand. How long had Hermione been captured? Weeks? Months? Two months, three?

She drifted the wand over the last open gash on Zabini's body and looked up shyly at him before presenting his wand to him, watching him grab it and relax in relief.

"You okay?" he asked, his cool bass voice making Ginny shiver.

Ginny nodded. "Er… Thank you. I mean… for saving my life. That was… nice of you."

Blaise smirked at her. "'That was nice of you'. I hope you realize that I am now on top of the Dark Lord's 'Must Kill' list, probably third to Potter and Weasley Number Six."

Ginny bristled at the mention of 'Weasley Number Six', which would be Ron. Was _she _just another Weasley to him? Was she simply the 'she-Weasel'?

"I saved your life, Ginevra," Blaise hissed, noticing how she immediately tensed. "I don't need to prove anything to you, and I don't owe you anything."

Ginny bowed her head slightly.

Silence endured.

It stretched for a long time, minutes ticking away until Blaise stood up, silent and wordless, and then left towards the forest, not looking back to make sure that she followed.

She did.

Ginny sighed. She knew that she should probably be trying to get on Blaise's good side now, especially since he saved her, but there was still that habitual part of her that urged her to snap at him.

"Eh… Zabini?"

He turned around slightly so that she could see half of his face. "Could you please call me 'Blaise'?" he asked casually, as if they were just talking at afternoon tea. "'Zabini' relates me to my father."

Ginny blinked, surprised at this request. "Okay… Blaise. Call me Ginny…"

"Ginevra."

"I hate that name!"

Blaise smirked again. "Ginevra is more sophisticated than 'Ginny'. 'Ginny' is undeniably close to 'Ginger'…"

Secretly, Ginny agreed inside. When had she decided that she preferred 'Ginevra' to 'Ginny'? Er… just about in that second. However, her instincts were on all the way, and she simply glared daggers at him.

He gave her a platonic innocent look. "Now, _Ginevra. _What were you going to say to me before I rudely interrupted you?"

She snorted derisively at his attempt at politeness (though she did consider it quite suave). "Where are we going, may I ask? Are we just stumbling through the forest like heavy elephants?"

"Why of course not, _Ginevra," _Blaise answered smoothly. "We are going to a nearby town that hasn't been claimed by the Dark Lord yet. It is a small village that is too insignificant for him to care, though their protection is up and their loyalty to the Light is unwavering."

Ginny's eyebrows knitted together. "Why don't we Apparate?"

A chuckle answered her. "Ah, why didn't you mention such a _perfetto _idea beforehand?" His face was perfectly blasé, showing no indication that he had just made her walk all this way for his amusement.

Ginny scowled at him. "Shut it, Smarmy Italian, and get to Apparating."

"I'm incredibly stung as result of your racism…"

"Smarmy-Face!"

"As you wish, _La Mia Lady." _

With a sharp 'pop', they disappeared.

O

The two arrived at the small village in the northern part of England, shivering in the bitter cold of the arctic wind.

"Who's there?" a man's voice boomed in the grey and white blur in front of them.

"We are people of the Light!" Ginny called back, praying that they not let them freeze out in the cold.

There was a pause before the man answered: "Name?"

"Ginny Weasley!" she answered, hoping that they knew her last name.

"Weasley!" there was muttering and rustling before the scene unfolded to them. A row of dark wood houses lined the streets, some reinforced with stone and marble if lucky. Snow coated the ground, and people were gathered in the clearing. A large tree stood in the middle, strung with lights and glimmering brightly in different colors. On the top was a star, shining with hope and peace and reflecting colors of gold and silver glitter.

It was Christmas.

"Ginny Weasley," a man said. He looked in his mid-forties, his face hard but his eyes caring and kind. "And who is this?"

Ginny turned to face Blaise, raising an eyebrow at him. "Jingo Anderson."

"Well, do come into my house and warm yourself up!" a woman said, reminding Ginny strongly of her mother… Her mother…

"Do come on, Ginny and… Jingo," another voice joined in.

Ginny smiled at the people around her and walked towards the door, letting the warm arm blast in her face as the fire's warmth encase her immediately. She heard Blaise sputter in protest and mutter at how he would feel bad for her future children for having a mother with horrible names.

"Merry Christmas, dear, you can both call me Mary" the same woman smiled at the two once they settled down in the living room. "Would you like to have some hot cocoa?"

"That'd be great," Blaise gave her a charming smile. The woman blushed, despite being much older than him (ten, twenty years?) and hustled off, preparing their warm drinks.

"Flirt," Ginny mumbled as she leaned away from him.

Blaise smirked. "You're jealous."

"No I'm not… _Jingo." _

His smirk fell immediately. "Next time, _I _choose my name."

"What name… _Jingo?" _

Blaise turned away from her with mock anger before smiling with that same handsome grin as he accepted his hot chocolate from Mary.

"So… tell me, both of you," Mary said after flushing pink again. "What are both of you doing out in the winter cold of Christmas?"

"We had to flee," Ginny answered, shaking her head. "I had no idea that it was Christmastime already."

"You poor children…" she whispered, tying her brown hair (though silver streaked it once in a while) into a bun. "You can both stay for the night, if you prefer…"

Blaise's lips twitched up into another smile. _Blimey, _he thought, _being a Hufflepuff is hard! Smiling all the time… my mouth hurts! _"Why _thank you_, Mary. You are _too _kind."

Mary blushed again, much to Ginny's annoyance.

"Well," Ginny cut in, sending a glower at Blaise's direction. "I was wondering if you had any news so far about the Light."

Mary's expression turned sad. "Not too much. The Light is keeping silence as everyone is trying to find refuge… the Ministry has been infiltrated, and muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak. There have been whispers of change, however. I think that the war is brewing on the horizon… it's soon."

Blaise's expression froze in place. "So soon?" he whispered, sounding hoarse.

"Sometime, we have to embrace it," Mary gave him a sympathetic glance. "Think of the bright side, Jingo. This could end the darkness forever."

Blaise forced a smile on his face with difficulty. "You're right."

Mary looked at the two of them before saying, "Well, I need to prepare some fish and Christmas dinner… I'll be right back." She smiled kindly before standing up and leaving for the kitchen once again.

Ginny turned to Blaise, whispering softly: "We need to find Harry and Ron… and at the war, we _must _save Hermione…"

"And Draco."

"What?"

Blaise turned to her, his eyes resolute and unwavering. "I'm going to help Draco. He's not bad, you know. Same with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass."

Ginny bit her lip.

"You save your Gryffindor friends, I save mine."

O

Hermione stared outside the window at the flurries of snow that drifted around the cold night sky. They glinted silver and sparkled like crystals and glass shards.

She flinched when there was a cool breath at her ear, and accompanying was a message.

"Happy Christmas, _Hermione." _

**Author's Notes: **Done, and done! I know most of this chapter was about the others… I promise more Tomione in the next! Tell me what you thought of this… **please review! **


	26. Sometimes I Feel

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, here it is, chapter… 26? I've nearly lost count! I actually _got _to chapter 26… now I'm just acting sappy and happy… that rhymes…

To _abcdreamer: _Ah, more Tomione! Here it is!

To _: _Ah, I'll give you more Tomione right here! Hope you like it!

To _vswimming12_: Thank you! I've always been a Blaise/Ginny lover.

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Aw… thank you! Professional writer? Thanks! So many records to break, eh?

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _I love how you had to keep on reviewing because you miscounted (: Wow, our birthdays are close! You're the only other person that I've found so far that is almost the same age as me!

To _laurelley: _*Prepares for the rant * (:

To _JACKinaBOX: _Ah, well, I'm going to have to give you the same lecture as I do with other pathetic flamers: 1) I'm sorry I didn't go down crying and instead laughed at your review, 2) Go to manner school, 3) I don't give a damn, and 4) Thank you for the advice. Ta da!

To _Candycane: _Thank you! I've actually read a Hermione/Salazar fanfiction… it was interesting!

To _Anonymous Echo: _Firstly: wow, I hereby give you the award for longest review I have ever received! And that was your _short _review? Awesome! I love you for writing long feedbacks! That was so, so praising… and thank you for standing up for me! It's one thing to write a praise… It's another to say _exactly _what was good in a story!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _Walnettos: _Thank you so much! That really was praising, and it's an author's job to create a whirlwind of emotions! That idea actually never came across my mind until you mentioned it… (: Don't worry, I'm really not planning to do that.

To _Vampiress Idrial: _Thank you! More Tomione here!

To _SerenityLux: _Did you know that 'Jingo' is an actual name? I originally was going to let Ginny name Blaise 'Ginger' (since Blaise always makes fun of her) but instead went with 'Jingo', something relatively close. Thank you so much!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Thank you! The plot thickens!

To _niiary: _I do try not to bore my readers to death! Thank you!

To _Kira-Hope: _Here 'tis! Hope you like it!

To _Patricia95: _Just a note: most people who speak English as their first language fail anyways. In fact, I think your English is better than some people I know of… Oh! I'm taking Spanish as my language elective! Hola, ¿cómo estás? (I know, not that impressive, ha). *Bows for calling you 'Bellatrix' * Thank you for your praises! Yes, I'm a cruel, cruel author that will stop it right there! I usually like the bad guys, I confess. Ah, I feel the love!

To _Patricia95: _Thank you for standing up for me!

To _azulaiii: _Thank you! I love Ginny/Blaise too!

To _Waterdaydreamer: _Thank you so much!

To _west carson girl: _Why, thank you! Well, I'd much rather you didn't hate me for that deliciously wonderful cliffhanger (: Daphne Greengrass is the sister of Astoria Greengrass, who marries Draco Malfoy in the future.

_I never thought that it'd be easy  
'Cause we both so distant now  
And the walls are closing in on us  
And we're wondering how  
No one has a solid answer  
But just walking in the dark  
And you can see the look on my face  
It just tears me apart  
So we fight through the hurt  
And we cry and cry and cry and cry  
And we live and we learn  
And we try and try and try and try_

_-Justin Bieber, Down to Earth _

Her skin tingled where his cool breath hit, and she took measured breaths as she tried to calm her heart rate.

Strong arms circled around her waist, pulling her against his chest.

Hermione had two decisions. She could fight against him; fight as she had all of her life, or she could relax. She could let go and simply melt into his embrace, feel the warm arms holding her up.

She decided to let go.

She relaxed most of the muscles in her body, and she fluidly shaped around him, fitting perfectly in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed.

She had fought for so long.

As a heroine, she had defied all thoughts of darkness. She aimed spells against the people with black cloaks, and she ran if she could not defeat. Hermione argued with those who debated blood purity, and she never dared open a dark book, no matter how curious she became.

Hermione was weary from her life-long fight. She was tired and worn out, and she did not want to fight any longer. It had been a harsh life, and she wanted out.

Like a battle-worn soldier who had finally found peace in sleep, she leaned against Tom Riddle, not caring that he was the basis of all of her problems.

The Gryffindor felt him stiffen in surprise at her surrender before quickly relaxing again.

"How are you, _Hermione?" _he whispered in her ear. She could feel his lips brush against her ear, and she trembled slightly, oddly grateful that his arms were around her to hold her up. She could barely hear the slightly mocking edge in his voice: it was spoken so smoothly that anyone would fall into his entrancing tone.

Hermione focused on breathing in and out before she could stutter a reply. "I… um… I'm… I'm… g-great… You?" she whispered, stumbling over her words.

Riddle chuckled, and Hermione could feel the vibration in his throat. "I feel the most wonderful, thank you."

Hermione closed her eyes; she could feel one of Riddle's hands rise and play with a strand of her golden-brown hair, and then another, until both hands were on either side of her neck. They drifted down to her collarbone before he completely released her, stepping away.

She stumbled slightly before catching her balance. Her breath caught when she felt something heavy on her chest, and instinctively, her hand reached up and felt the cool necklace.

Hermione's eyes travelled to a nearby mirror, and she could see the glint of silver in the candlelight. Her fingers clenched around the pendant, bringing it up to the light to see.

It was a rose, elegant and beautiful, it's stem twining around a black onyx stone as if a snake. The rose was blood red, the petals fully blooming and each little leaf trimmed and tipped with silver. The stem was covered with sharp thorns.

"It's a gothic Galraedia Pendant: a Rosycroix. It's called the Rose of Immortality Pendant from the world of Myth, Legend, and Fantasy," Riddle said casually walking around to admire it.

Hermione gaped at him. "I… why…"

He walked forward and lightly pressed his lips on her forehead before walking towards the door. "Happy Christmas," Riddle said with a strange glint in his layered grey eyes. He closed the door swiftly behind him.

Hermione stared at the place where he had left, completely mesmerized with his exit and departing words, before she examined the pendant, blinking as she tried to decipher the meaning behind it. It was beautiful and graceful, as if an animal that was fiercely elegant. It seemed to hum with energy and life, glowing with radiance against her chest.

She flipped around the words that he said, trying to find a code. Hermione mixed the letters in the word 'Galraedia' and 'Rosycroix', only to find nothing but a hapless, meaningless scramble.

'_The Rose of Immortality'. _

Her heart began to pound in her chest again, though not nearly as hard or as adrenaline-filled as when she was in Riddle's presence. 'The Rose of Immortality', he had said. What did that mean? Surely, it did not provide eternal youth, or else he would've kept that necklace for himself.

Immortality meant the world to him, Hermione knew. Evidence of the Horcruxes from the future Lord Voldemort proved that. Everything he did was to create power and rule and dominate, and the reason to dominate would be because there is no other threat.

If immortality meant so much to him, did that mean that he was giving her everything that he had?

Hermione immediately shook her head. She may have found out that he had emotions and feelings, but it didn't mean that he could feel any sort of affection…

_Especially towards her. _

Taking a deep breath, her intelligent and curious amber eyes fixed itself on the pendant again. _Was _there even a meaning behind it?

A small part of her mind, the logical part, warned that he might have cursed the necklace. But she was living on her instincts now, and for some reason, she didn't want to take it off. After all, what could he do to her? He could track her with the mark he branded permanently on her skin, he could torture her, and he could take her life if he wanted to.

Everything was muddled and blurry. She couldn't separate her feelings from her logic, and could not separate loyalty and desire. What was right and what was easy? Did instinct or logic help you survive? Is survival the most important thing in this age?

Her thoughts twisted into a tangled pile of vines, Hermione's eyes traced back to the empty doorway once again. "Happy Christmas, Tom," Hermione whispered, even though she knew that he could not hear her any longer. Sometimes, it didn't matter if they could hear.

It was the heart said behind those words.

O

"Granger. Goddamnit, Granger, _wake up." _

Hermione groaned, and the first things that she noticed were her sore muscles. She flexed them painfully, cracking open an eye.

"Goodness. And I thought that I was the one who didn't want to get up in the mornings… _Granger!" _

Sleepily, Hermione raised a head, yawning as she did. "Malfoy?" she mumbled, barely managing to put surprise in her tone as she dragged herself into a sitting position. She must've fallen asleep on the desk, she figured, which would have been the cause of her soreness. Her hair was sticking straight out and was even more wild than usual, and it strongly resembled a pile of sticks for a bird's nest.

"What did you do, fall down drunk on Christmas night?"

"I don't drink," Hermione murmured indignantly.

She felt Malfoy shrug. "Well, the Death Eaters sure did. All got wasted, the lot of them. My goodness… your hair is worse than usual, and that truly is saying something."

Hermione sputtered as she bolted straight up, giving him the evil eye. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's expression turned serious as once. He straightened his shoulders and his molten grey eyes hardened into stone. "They plan on attacking within a week."

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened into large circles.

"Pothead and Weasel. We just got the news a couple of minutes ago. They aren't even trying to keep the attack quiet because they need all of the allies they can possibly get."

Hermione slumped against the wall, staring at the air in front of her. "One week."

"Yeah."

She hadn't thought of the fight too much. It always felt as if it was so far away, that they would take more time to prepare and gather more people.

Now, it was one week away.

_One week. _

In one week, she would see Ron and Harry again. In one week, this war would end. In one week, either the Dark will prevail and muggleborns will be killed and tortured or the Light will win and restore peace in the Wizarding World.

In one week, she may never see Tom Riddle again.

She didn't know why she had this particular part, and she especially didn't understand why it mattered. Would she miss him? _Would she miss the Dark Lord? _

Hermione bit her lip. _Why _should she? Did she become… attached? How could she become attached to… a murderer?

She thought of the times that Riddle had opened up to her, and the times that he showed regret. She thought of his kisses and his simple ways of expressing himself.

Was this a man that she could become emotionally attached to?

"Granger."

Hermione's attention snapped towards Malfoy, who was peering at her with narrowed silver eyes that glinted like two flecks of steel.

"Blaise has escaped, and there's no doubt that he will get drift of the war and fight. I will fight by his side. If I…" Malfoy swallowed, looking away before turning back towards her, his pale face filled with a strange emotion. "If the Light wins and I don't make it… please, _please _save my mother and the Greengrasses. They've… they've done nothing wrong."

She blinked at him, as if looking at him in a whole new light. Hermione would have never guessed that Malfoy would even have any _depth _of his emotions before. Before, he was a sniveling, crying coward, and here he stood, readying himself and preparing a future for others _just in case he died. _

_Just in case he died. _

What if other people died? What if Harry died, or if Ron… Or Ginny… Molly… Fred, George, Tonks, Lupin…

Everything that she loved.

Anyone could die in one week. _One week. _

She could die.

She would miss her life, Hermione admitted. She would miss seeing Harry's emerald green eyes fill with mischief and Ron wolf down his breakfast. She would miss hearing Ginny pronounce how she would look so dashing with a dab or so of makeup, and she would miss the hilarity (despite the immaturity) of the twins' pranks.

She would miss Blaise Zabini, despite not knowing him all that well, and listening to his intelligent rants and watching him and Ginny's relationship grow.

She would even miss Draco Malfoy's declaration of his change of sides.

Hermione bit her lip before she had the last thought, and found her mind whirling back into the same track as it had before.

She would miss _Him. _

Tom Riddle.

She would miss their banter and his intelligence. She would miss his layered grey eyes that no one else could ever duplicate. She would miss the way he held himself and the way he seemed stone solid but actually had a heart beneath the cold mask. She would miss reading his diary and feeling his cold fingers on her cheek.

Was she disgusted?

She couldn't bring herself to say so.

"Promise me?" Malfoy's voice, once again, interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione turned to stare into those hopeful silver eyes. Eyes that, a while back, had been cold and condescending.

"I promise that I will try my very best to save those who are innocent," Hermione pledged. "I promise."

For the first time in her life, she saw the ghost of a smile on Draco Malfoy's lips. She saw his pale lips curl up, ever so slightly, into a smile. Not a smirk, but a true, genuine, whole-hearted smile.

If something so simple could make him have hope and motivation for this fight, then the Wizarding World was not at loss.

Hermione watched him mask his emotions once again, and saw him straighten up into his usual regal posture. "I'll see you soon," he said softly before leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Hermione knew that if the Light won, it meant that Riddle would be dead. Did she want him dead?

The pendant that he had given her last night hummed against her skin, glowing warm ever so slightly.

She sighed. She would never wish for the Wizarding World to fall because of one man. She was not built for selfishness, and Hermione couldn't find it in herself to say that she would choose Riddle's life over everyone else's.

Her mind couldn't.

But could her heart?

O

Tom stood out on the balcony, not even shivering in the cold as snow continued to drift from the bright white sky. His pale hands were clasped behind his back, and his grey eyes stared at the white scenery of his home.

The last challenge that he had faced had been Dumbledore, back in his own time. Back in the time where he had belonged, Dumbledore always had suspected mischief from him. The old man never trusted Riddle's perfect façade, no, he saw through it with those penetrating blue eyes.

Riddle, in a strange way, was confused.

His lips had not automatically curved up into a malicious smirk at the thought of the old headmaster's death. Wasn't this a goal of his? He knew that he felt no… _care… _for Dumbledore, but in some way, his mind felt strangely…

_Detached. _

Dumbledore had been his last challenge.

_Now, _it was Hermione Jean Granger.

Hermione never did what he expected. She did not kneel in fear before him and do what he ordered her to do. She fought with every living nerve in her body against him, loathing him and hating him all the while.

The world had almost always been black and white for him. Dumbledore was bad. Muggleborns were an abomination of their kind. Purebloods had power. Muggles deserved to die. If someone disobeyed, they suffer.

Hermione Granger was the grey area.

She was too fascinating to be simply killed, and she was too untamed to be made into a follower. She was a wild card, different and never predictable.

That was why she was different.

Riddle hadn't so often met a girl who could resist his charm, and what he wanted, he got. Here was a different situation.

Once again, Hermione was an exception to his normal way of life.

She had been one of the few people who could actually understand him at the least. How? How did a muggleborn girl of no magical heritage with any significant name or power effect him: the formidable heir of Slytherin?

Riddle turned away, sweeping into his room and allowing warmth to encase his body and warm his cold skin. He was spending too much time on Hermione, he knew. But a good puzzle was always something that he wanted to solve.

Instead, he focused on something else:

The War.

To say that he was afraid would be a lie. He knew that he was a far more advanced than Potter or any other remaining member of the Light.

However, this felt like a war that he never chose to fight.

It wasn't _him _who directly chose to kill Lily and James Potter and create this prophecy for Harry Potter's life. It was his _future _self, a part of him that knew far more than him right now. He knew that he had changed over the years, and the person he was now was not nearly as unmerciful as the man he had become years later.

He didn't even know Harry Potter.

The only grudge that he had against him was his ability to speak Parseltongue… because of his _future _self, once again.

Did his future self keep on screwing things up?

He would've been more motivated if he had experienced the anger and resent he had felt against Harry Potter. He wouldn't been debating any sort of possible _loss _if he had felt the revenge coursing through his veins.

Riddle knew that there was no getting out of this. For years, Lord Voldemort had terrorized over the Wizarding World. He couldn't surrender without someone shooting a Killing Curse at him.

Wasn't this what he had always wanted?

Back in his time, he had watched how Abraxas Malfoy, Orion Black, and various other purebloods bow to him with greed. His ambition was to get back at people who had given him grief in his childhood and rise as the Dark Lord.

Did he still want to?

Riddle thought of Hermione. Would she participate in the war, wandless? He knew that she could sometimes use wandless magic, a feat that only some have managed to succeed in, but she couldn't fight a war like that.

Did he care?

Did he truly care for a girl?

He hadn't cared for a long time. He hadn't felt anything for a long time…

Until he met Hermione.

Riddle sighed. Everything was about Hermione Granger. Every thought that revolved around his mind always somehow travelled back to _her. _

He stared at the wand in his hand. It had been his faithful companion, always ready for battle. Did he care for Hermione? Did he care enough for her to use his wand to defend her?

**Author's Notes: **So, what did you think? Did you like it? The pendant that Tom gave Hermione is right here (though there is an extra onyx stone in the middle in my version): .

**Please review! **


	27. Sometimes I Want

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, chapter 27! This story is almost finished… I can't believe it! I hope you guys like this chapter!

This song was once again, submitted by the one and only _Wicked Sapphira! _Thank you!

_You belong to me  
My snow white queen  
There's nowhere to run  
So let's just get it over  
Soon I know you'll see  
You're just like me  
Don't scream anymore my love  
'Cause all I want is you _

_-Evanescence, Snow White Queen  
_

The week passed like a blur. More often than not, Hermione found herself standing outside in the bitter cold, staring blankly at the white land. Sometimes, her mind would wander to the pending war, and her face would fill with so many different emotions that you couldn't distinguish one from the other. Every time, the same feelings would slap her in the face, as fresh as sudden realization.

Sometimes, she wouldn't think a thing. It was as if meditating, watching how the trees' branches would curl elegantly in the air and the few remaining leaves spiral to the ground. It would snow regularly, cotton balls lightly drifting, while other times it pelted down like hail. She would prefer the blankness of her mind at times, choosing the blissful observance rather than pain and anxiety.

Hermione would find her mind subconsciously begin to come up with plots to live, plans to kill, and ideas to save. How could she defend herself with no wand? How could she help the Light without magic? How could she save her comrades without any way to do so?

And following these worries would be different thoughts, straining farther from the idea of winning the war. What if they didn't trust her anymore? What if they wanted her to rot and die?

What if her heart would break if she left Riddle? What if the Dark won? What if the Light won?

What if…

Life was full of questions that she could not answer. Many people asked her why she planned so far ahead, and the answer was that she needed to prepare for any sort of outcome possible. She was afraid of what would happen, always. She was brave and a Gryffindor, but in the end, the unknown made her shy away. It was her weakness.

Now, there were too many possibilities. When dealing with people, anything was possible. There were far too many different results for her to deal with, and her resources were limited.

Every other day, Hermione would meet with Malfoy, or rather, Draco, as she felt compelled to call him. They were on the same side of the war now, she argued, so why not acknowledge the other person's name?

Draco never called her Hermione. Sometimes, he'd slip and stumble over her name, but he was trying, she knew. And it was the thought that counted.

Hermione found Draco very much different than their younger days. He was mature and intelligent, though not as intellectually inclined as Blaise may be, he was clever in his plans and he saw a side of people that others wouldn't notice.

Perhaps all of that pranking had done him good after all.

Now that she thought of it, he must've used his brains regularly, plotting evil plans.

Draco was different from anyone that she had ever known.

He was no coward, as she had assumed from the last five to six years at Hogwarts. In fact, he was quite brave. Draco reinforced the idea of saving his mother and the Greengrasses (mainly Astoria) many a time, and he spoke of the possibility of his own death without falter. For one to look in the face of death and be able to not tremble and shake was something that Hermione considered very admirable.

He was not stupid. Draco always came up with different ways to meet and talk about the war, and they were never caught. No one ever interrupted their conversations, and every hideout was soundproof and thief-free. He updated her regularly on the Death Eater meetings that occurred daily.

Out of all of the conversations that Hermione had with Draco Malfoy, the most out she had taken out of it was that his pureblood life was not as easy as some would think. It was not all a plainly powerful, rich life that was easy and carefree. No, he lived his life out of fear, fearing that the Dark Lord would kill him, fearing that his father would beat him, fearing for his mother's life, fearing that he would say something wrong.

She found that his emotions had more depth than she had, once again, simply assumed. That, she decided, was one of the humankind's most dominant flaw; assumption.

Though he was usually stoic and arrogantly polite in their meetings, she would see flickers of emotion and anticipation of the war in his silver eyes.

Only once in a while would they fight. Nearly every meeting they argued, but fight they did not. They shared their point of views and their thoughts, and once, Hermione had an emotional breakdown. To her surprise, Draco had comforted her, not in a lover's embrace, but in the way that she knew was honest and understanding. He understood her pain, she knew, even though they grew up with entirely different lifestyles. Anyone else would be faking their sympathy.

She barely saw Tom Riddle. Every night, she dreamt of him, some of them filled with sunshine and a change of light while others were nightmares, filled with blood and gory. Every morning, she would wake up, sometimes drenched in sweat while sometimes ill at ease.

Impulsively, she had tried to search for him. She explored the Riddle House, avoiding Death Eaters expertly, and crept along the dark hallways. But she never found him.

Everyday, the girls would huddle together in front of the fireplace and sit in silence, sometimes crying while other times reminiscing in pleasant memories. Sometimes, they would talk about those who had died: Amourette, Kriste, Seraythe, and Vyxeria. The girls even included Hermione and Kaitlyn in their gatherings, probably because the end was coming and old grudges didn't matter anymore.

More than once, Hermione told of her old adventures with Harry and Ron, and the girls would listen, entranced and eyes light with curiosity and awe. She told of fear and heartbreak, anger and happiness.

Life went on like a routine.

Nothing special came up within that week. However, Hermione never found that week boring.

It went by too quickly.

She feared the war, Hermione admitted. Only a fool wouldn't. The girls feared, especially the muggle ones, and the Death Eaters feared. Riddle probably was scared as well, despite the fact that he would never admit it.

Did she fear death?

No, Hermione sighed, staring out at the skies. Draco had taught her why he did not fear death. He did not fear being enveloped in darkness and leaving his body behind. He did not fear being released into blissful oblivion, no.

He was afraid of losing everything.

Draco had said that he didn't want to lose his memories, the pleasant ones. He wanted to remember his mother's smile and being sorted into Slytherin. He wanted to remember the times that he had grinned at seeing his high grades and when he made it onto the Quidditch team. He wanted to remember how Astoria had looked at him with care that only his mother had given him until he met her. He wanted to remember how he fought for what was right.

Hermione was afraid of the same thing.

What about Harry? What about Ron? She _wanted _to live for them, and she _wanted _to remember everything, painful or not. She wanted to remember those lessons of wisdom and her different experiences. She wanted to remember everyone's smile and the changing of so many people.

It was worth living for.

Death was a mystery, she knew, and people feared the unknown. What would happen after you died? Would you still be conscious? Would you regret your life? Would you have a presence?

Some people need to leap. A famous saying was to "look before you leap". Death was an exception. Leap before you look so that you aren't frightened away. Death was inevitable, so why not embrace it?

Hermione walked away from the moonless night. No stars were visible in the sky; no winking souls staring down at the mortals. Only an endless black space was above her head, making her feel small and insignificant.

Today was the night before the war.

No one had cried today. No one dared to shed a tear, and no one spoke of the looming future. Everyone wallowed in their memories and feelings and beliefs, flashing through them one last time in hopes of remembering them in case of death.

"Hermione?"

This was Nyrocael, glancing up at her shyly.

Hermione blinked at her, unused to being addressed to directly when not storytelling (a talent that she had discovered of herself). "Yes?"

"I just… we…" Nyrocael took a deep breath, swallowing saliva. "We're sorry, Hermione. We… we understand how different your life is from ours. We understand your responsibilities and… I just… I don't want to die regretting that I didn't apologize to you."

This was the first time that someone had mentioned the war, and now that Nyrocael had said it, it seemed very much real. It had been like a dream for the last week, and now, she was admitting the truth.

The war was tomorrow.

Hermione bit her lip, keeping down tears as she embraced the girl. "I forgive you. I understand why you all thought that… I… I'm going to miss all of you. Just remember that you're all brave…"

Everyone joined into a group hug, murmuring apologies and giving their last wishes to friends.

"Hermione?"

A voice cut through their circle of friends as everyone immediately turned to the speaker and then to Hermione.

It was Tom Riddle.

His grey eyes were tired yet alert, and he looked as dominant and powerful as before. However, there was a change in his aura, as if he was tired of fighting, though she was doubtful that he would ever do such a thing.

He raised one pale, long finger and beckoned her over to him, turning around sharply and walking out of the door without even waiting for Hermione to respond.

Hermione bit her lip, accepting the reassuring nods from the girls, before standing up slowly, shakily. She reluctantly released Prere's hand, which she had been gripping like a lifeline.

Every step she took felt like a step to a difference. Every step held up a burden. Was she walking towards her death? Was she walking towards her heart?

Darkness folded around her when she made her way to the dark hallway, crossing it to another room, where Riddle was waiting.

No candle was lit. Only a minimum amount of light shown through the windows, and she could only see the outline of his face, the glinting of his silver eyes, and the reflection of light in his jet-black hair.

His eyes were filled with indecision and a strange collection of emotions.

Both orbs were fixed on Hermione and only Hermione, nothing else. It was only them two in the world: Tom and Hermione. Tom and Hermione. Tom and Hermione.

"Hermione," Tom whispered her name.

She had to swallow quickly to keep down the lump in her throat. Never had someone ever said her name like that. Everyone treated her like a sister or a friend or even an enemy. Riddle usually called her 'Meus Leana' or any variation of 'Gryffindor Princess' or 'Granger'. He always had said her first name mockingly.

Not this time.

He had said her name with the oddest variety of emotions, all honest and true, none of them changed to persuade her of something.

"Hermione," he whispered again.

Hermione suddenly was reminded of how she had thought of him as a fallen angel, long ago. He is, she thought, a fallen angel.

"Tomorrow is the war," Riddle murmured, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow is the war. People will die, and people will try to kill me. People will try to kill _you." _

Hermione began trembling. If she had thought that Nyrocael saying these words had been a dose of icy cold water, then this feeling was beyond words. It was so… resolute, so inevitable, and so unavoidable. She couldn't find any words to describe what she was feeling, and she couldn't find any words to answer him. No words made its way out of her mouth. Not even the bitingly angry words that were meant to hurt him; not even the most inspiring or the most defeated sayings could describe what she wanted to say.

She couldn't find it in herself to hurt him. She couldn't find it in herself to say fake words of hope. She couldn't even find it in herself to cry.

It was beyond that.

The perfectly melodic voice continued, someone not shaking or trembling. "In the war tomorrow… no matter what the outcome, I want you to keep that necklace around your neck. I… It would mean a lot to me, and it still does right now." Riddle seemed to be struggling with himself, eyebrows knit together in effort. "_Please, _Hermione."

At the word 'please', it felt as if all of the tension was released form his shoulders, as if a weight was being lifted. His silver eyes flew open to stare straight at her, as if one of those stars that wouldn't appear in the sky.

Now was when she realized that he had never asked something of someone before.

Hermione couldn't tell if he was merely independent in the way that he didn't want to trouble anyone else or if he was afraid of seeming weak, but for him to ask something of her in such a manner was something that mattered.

Her hand immediately touched the cool material of the pendant. She had tried to take it off in the middle of the week, but she had felt weak and saddened without it, as if missing a piece of her life.

"I… I will," she whispered.

"Promise me?"

Hermione stared straight into his eyes, and felt like she was signing a contract in her blood. "I promise."

There was a slight bit of rustling before Riddle held up a wand, a delicate wand that he held delicately in his hand. It was made of vine wood, and carved vines curled and twined together.

Hermione gasped, staring intently at the wand in his hand. She would recognize her own wand anywhere. Before, she had suspected that he had simply snapped it in half, and now, she stared at her wand, her _companion, _and realized how much she missed it.

"I'm not the type to let those who are defenseless to wander in pain. I prefer winning before I punish," Riddle said softly, handing over the wand to her.

Hermione grasped her wand tightly in her hand, relishing over how it hummed in her hand like a long lost friend. The golden feeling poured through her body like rays of sunshine and warmth.

"I…" Hermione, once again, was at loss for words. This was the best gift that he could ever give to her.

Why did he do it?

She knew that Lord Voldemort would love to see someone run around defenseless and helplessly.

Tom Riddle was a different case. Was he cruel for thinking differently? He wanted someone to try to win against him before he tortured him… it was like giving people a chance, to put it in a nice way, and it was like giving people false hope, to put it in a bad way.

Hermione didn't feel like questioning his motives at the moment. All she cared about was that this was her wand, _her wand, _in her hands. She had thought that she would never meet this faithful companion again.

Dark grey eyes stared at her, assessing her reaction. From what Hermione saw, he looked satisfied with his work.

She wondered why.

Riddle lightly caressed the soft skin on her cheeks, his skin contrastingly paler and colder than hers. It was a feather-light touch, soothing and caring.

Hermione stared up at him, focusing on breathing in and out and keeping her heart beating.

He slowly bent his head, being an entire head taller than her, holding her head with both of his hands now.

It was their third kiss.

The first had been demanding and angry. Their second had been soft and coaxing.

This was a combination.

It felt as if every nerve in her body was burning with fire, a fierce passion that was provoked by Riddle's perfect lips. Her heart exploded with emotion, an emotion that she had felt but had never before felt it so strongly.

Hermione lightly trailed her fingers down his neck, feeling her lips melding against his, his arms at her waist and holding her towards him.

Her heart yearned for more when he drew back, grey eyes a whirlwind of emotions.

"Sleep," Riddle whispered in her ear. His voice, like a spell, made her immediately feel drowsy. She wanted to curl up and sleep, using his chest as a pillow, and just leave the world for a little while.

When he released her, Hermione reconnected her mind and her body again.

Her lips still tingling, her brown doe eyes were wide, staring at him as she backed away. The past couple of minutes flashed back to her, now that she was actually thinking. Hermione took one last look at his face, a perfectly carved statue that was gazing at her, before turning around and leaving him there in that empty room.

O

_Riddle stared at her, his grey eyes soft and loving. _

"_Hermione, don't leave me." _

_Hermione's heart leapt as he said those beautiful words, his voice silky and smooth. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. She could see every miniscule bit of Tom's perfect face in front of her, and his dark eyes were pleading her, imploring her to stay… _

"_No, I can't, I have to leave, I'm sorry Tom––"_

_Hermione's heart broke for the man standing before her as she saw his hopeful expression fall into a look of defeat, and in any second, you would expect tears to leak out of those beautiful orbs. _

"_Please, don't you understand? I love you." _

_The three words echoed in the small dome of light that was created around their two figures. _

"_I have to join my family and my friends," Hermione answered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. _

_Tom stared at her brokenly. "What about me? I have no family left waiting for me, no one who will care for me and any horror I have faced. Please, Hermione, stay…" _

"_I can't," Hermione choked out, backing away and walking farther and farther from him, leaving his embrace. "I can't."_

"_Hermione…" _

_She couldn't see his figure anymore, just a small speck in the horizon._

"_Hermione, I've changed for you… Hermione… Hermione… Hermione…"_

_Her entire thin frame shivered every time her name crossed his lips, trying to fight his charm and his persuasiveness._

"_It's all a ruse," Ron's voice said harshly from the area in front of her. "He's trying to trick you back into his arms. Come here, Hermione, to where you belong."_

_Hermione's amber eyes filled with her dilemma, looking back at where Riddle's sole figure stood, lonely and sad. _

_Suddenly, the atmosphere of the world shifted._

_There was a suddenly darkness in the air, a bitter cold wind sweeping across the globe. It stabbed through the fragile bodies and struck terror into the world. _

_Hermione screamed._

_She saw Riddle's figure suddenly fall over, a distinctive color of red coating the floor. Hermione immediately broke into a run, running towards his fallen body, trying to reach him in time. The pool of blood grew bigger and bigger, leaking and pouring the life out of Riddle._

_Her running was slowed, and her feet felt like they were slipping._

"_Hermione!" Harry, Ginny, and Ron's voices echoed together from behind her. "Come home…" _

"_Tom!" Hermione shouted, fighting with all her might to reach him. She inched closer and closer, until she could touch his icy cold skin._

_His grey eyes were dimming, losing the light that they usually carried. "Am I dying?" he whispered, his voice only barely audible. _

"_Tom... Tom… I'll stay… Tom…" Hermione whispered, grasping his hand. "Tom… stay with me!" _

"_Tell… Tell Hermione that I love her," he breathed, his eyes blank and unable to recognize anyone, not even his beloved. _

_Hermione felt the tears stream down her cheek, coating her skin and dripping onto his body. "She knows," she cried, "Hermione knows."_

"_Tell her… promise…"_

"_I promise! I promise!" _

"_Tell her… tell her that I was brave. I didn't cry when I died… I watched Death close his fingers around me and I embraced it. Tell her I was brave and noble…"_

"_She knows; she knows," Hermione said softly, unable to stop the tears that were rolling down her cheek. "She loves you too." _

_She saw his figure fall limp and his eyes slowly shut, a sigh of content leaving his lips. One voice, a female's voice that she did not recognize, whispered a sentence in Hermione's ear: _

"_Love is realized in death."_

O

Hermione bolted straight up in bed, the last five words still ringing in her head. _It's just a dream; it's just a dream, _Hermione repeated in her head, panting as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

Her heart clenched as she remembered her dream: Riddle, calling for her… dying…

The war is today.

**Author's Notes: **Yes, finally a chrissy-approved length for a chappie! I hope you guys all liked this chapter, and please remember to review!

To _laurelley: _Little changes in Riddle, yep! … I hope you successfully completed your homework… heh…

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _I love that necklace, there's a picture of it somewhere on Google if you search it… I will refrain from laughing… wait… *giggles * Okay, done with that. I don't have an opinion on Justin Bieber, but I thought that his lyrics would be fitting for that chapter so I used it. Don't worry; I love long reviews!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Ha, you mess up every time! (:

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chappie!

To _CountessCadhla: _Thank you! I love Tom as well (and his sexiness, and you 'by accidentally' mentioned twice). I don't think I'm going to be able to add some fluff… _maybe… _I'll try my best to incorporate it without making it completely OOC. Fancy Latin!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Thank you!

To _Buckbeak Ate My Wand: _Don't worry, I have it all planned out *says evilly *…

To _Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace__: _Yes, I had to separate your name just so it would show up (: Don't worry, I'm not obsessed with Bieber or something, I'm actually quite neutral. I just thought that those lyrics were fitting (:

To _SerenityLux: _I find the name 'Jingo' funny as well… oops, I hope that no one's name is Jingo who's reading this story… Anyhow, thank you!

To _PinkSlytherin: _Here it is!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! It _is _sad at times, and sweet at others, isn't it?

To _Miss Gypsy Willow: _I'm glad that I've converted you into a Tomione shipper!

To _Lauretta: _Thank you for standing up for me!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Choir performances? Awesome! I adore your long reviews! Don't worry; I've got this planned out. Wow, that's a lot of song suggestions. Though I can't use all of them, I'm planning to maybe use one or two. I can't wait for Part Two as well! We have to wait until June for it to come out!

To _Heartonachain: _Thank you! I hope that I've converted you into a Tomione shipper.

To _EYESviolet: _… Dang it, I can't murder you? (: Of course, you wish you were in Hermione's place… with that Christmas present… Hungry men? Starving men… okay, ending this conversation. Thanks!

To _Patricia95: _Ah, but you can't sue a minor! (: … Eh, I give you luck on your tests? I have a friend who speaks Portuguese! 'Too good for your own good', I find that funny. But yes: that is correct (: I suppose she was quite OOC in the beginning. Sigh. I'll go nose my way through that part, lol. Um… I wouldn't dare… maybe.

To _Patricia95: _I will!

To _niiary: _Ah, well, I just thought that Justin Bieber's lyrics were fitting in that chapter. I'm not an obsessed fan; don't worry. Thank you! The tension is rising! Thank you for standing up for me!


	28. Sometimes I Cry

**Disclaimer: **No, dearest, I am not a fairy. No, dearest, I am not a unicorn. No, dearest, I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: **Oh! Did you know what I realized? This story will probably end on New Years! That's… coincidental! And guess what? When this story ends, I will finally be a teenager! Woo! _Anyhow… _I hope you like this chappie, and do review!I'm incredibly scared that I'm going to screw up the last couple of chapters… Ah! Anyhow, do read on.

_So hard to see myself without him  
I felt a piece of my heart break  
But when you're standing at a crossroad  
There's a choice you gotta make  
I guess it's gonna have to hurt  
I guess I'm gonna have to cry  
And let go of some things  
I've loved to get to the other side  
I guess it's gonna break me down  
Like falling when you try to fly  
It's sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life  
Starts with goodbye_

_-Carrie Underwood, Starts With Goodbye _

It was slightly drizzling outside. A light spray of misty rainwater blew into people's faces, pecking their cheeks with kisses. The sky was strangely bright, a brilliant silver-like color, with swirls of murky grey painted onto it. Everything seemed surreal: as if that day was all but a dream.

Every minute, every second, every millisecond that passed, was noted. The clock that ticked away the seconds seemed to be mocking them, taunting them. Every moment that passed brought them closer to the chaos that was sure to ensue.

Somewhere in the world, Hermione knew, the elders, the young, and the ill waited with a bated breath, waiting on the world to change. This war would be the greatest, the most horrifying, and the bloodiest war that the Wizarding World has ever, and hopefully will ever, see. This battle had more suspense and power than Grindelwald's havoc had ever created. This battle put World War I and II to shame, despite the crude way that Muggles murdered.

The Death Eaters frequently patrolled the hallways and perimeters of the land. Every fighter was prepared and had said their goodbyes to their loved ones. Most were terrified; some were cowards and fled, while still even fewer people licked their lips in anticipation for the war. Some of the guards would suddenly shout in terror if they saw even a hint of a shadow on the horizon, thinking that it was the Lights' warriors, but it was always imagination. They were all paranoid.

The girls had all joint hands, praying and whispering all of their hopes and dreams to themselves and to anyone who would listen.

At one time of day, Bellatrix had slipped into their room, black eyes with a manic gleam that frightened the Gryffindor courage out of Hermione.

Bellatrix gave her a sweet, poisonous smile before her lips curled into a sneer, eyes wide with excitement. Her wand was loose in her pale hands, and her black hair wildly framed her face like snakes on Medusa's head.

Before Hermione could even say one word, an insane grin split across the murderer's face. The most-feared Death Eater reached inside her cloak, revealing a black headband. One silk rose with folding petals sprouted from the right side, and little pearl spots dotted the veil-like material.

It was a headband for funerals.

Bellatrix placed the headband on her untamed, wild hair with surprising daintiness, carefully setting it on her head before the same, cruel smile cross her face.

"I'll be at your funeral, where we set you on a hill and watch you rot," she whispered, licking her lips like a snake's forked tongue would flicker out and swipe across their skin.

The Death Eater sunk back into the shadows, disappearing without any noise except for low laughter at Hermione's expense.

O _The Light _O

Everyone knew that the Dark side had the upper hand. They were the most likely to win if you compared their powers and magic as a group and as an individual. They had the most experienced Dark wizards and were older, though not wiser. They were driven by mad bloodlust. They grew up living to serve. They had no boundaries, no good morals to follow.

That is why the Dark is always so much more powerful than the Light.

The Light lived by morals and codes of honor, depending on their hearts to distinguish them from the enemy. That is why the Light always seems more just, more right, and contains more virtues.

Harry stared at the bleak land outside. His mind was far from the world that he stood in now, drifting away and muting the noises of crying and grief. He even muted the sounds of hope.

He remembered how everyone had pretended that everything was all right, long ago. In fourth year, fifth year, and now sixth year. They had masked the truth and stomped on their own honesty. People had known this would become of the world. People had known the truth long ago.

This was the life that he had grown up in. It was all about the horror, the fear, and the bravery. He fought for his life, he fought against the public's doubtful words, and he fought for trust. He fought his muggle guardians, he fought the _'Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore', _and he fought Voldemort.

Today was the last day that he would ever have to fight.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes and cutting himself off from reality. How would life be if his parents still lived? How would life be if he were not the Boy-Who-Lived? What if Voldemort had chosen the Longbottoms that night, therefore making Neville the Chosen One? So many pieces of childhood had been lost to his destiny and fate. So many scars and scabs were created and would never be healed. You can never find a remedy for his losses. The lives, the emotions, and the terrors were too much for time to heal.

He wondered what Hermione was thinking right now. He knew that she was loyal to the Light. She was curious, but no matter what, she was their logical, intelligent friend.

Harry knew that she was a self-sacrificial person. She would put her duties above her emotions no matter what. Was she staring at the same sky right now? Was she thinking about the future? Was she wondering how life could've been?

He felt someone up behind him and a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, mate," Ron said softly, standing next to him and leaning against the rail. "Guess that's it, eh?"

"Yeah," he responded, nodding slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. "This is it."

Harry turned to face Ron, remembering all of the journeys that they, the Golden Trio, had gone through. Sure, they fought against each other, they argued, and they fought again. But they were the _Golden Trio. _They stuck together in everything. They were like siblings, like family.

With Hermione so far away, they felt like nothing.

"You think we can find her?" Ron mumbled, a pained look in his eyes. Those very same eyes had once been mischievous and childish were now haunted and different. This fight wasn't in their control anymore. Hope was all they had left.

Hope was the only light in their darkness. Hope was the only thing that kept them grounded and brought them courage. In all of life, if darkness prevails, hope still remains. In Greek mythology, Pandora had closed the box fast enough for hope to always remain.

Harry nodded wordlessly, fervently praying in his mind for change. He wanted to be with his friends. He had never asked for this fate, and he had never wanted to grow up in a life of violence and murder. He wanted to be Harry. Just Harry.

O _The Dark _O

Half of the day passed and no sightings were found. Every hour made people more anxious and paranoid. Hearts beat faster, yet tears stopped flowing. Wands were gripped tighter, yet trembles were smoothed into statues.

The light in the sky slowly disappeared, fading behind a distant horizon. Both sides watched as day left them with night. The blanket of darkness was littered with speckles of stars, of hope. A bright, full moon shone from above.

_Atrum Angelus _flowers bloomed, its petals still the same satin black that represented darkness.

As the land lost any sign of purple or blue hue and the sky was completely obsidian with dots of light, one, sole, terrified shout echoed across the lands that the Riddle family owned.

"They're here!"

And this time…

… It was real.

Shadowed silhouettes of people appeared, and several cracks of Apparition accompanied it, wands lighted and ready for combat. They moved as a group, a mass of people who fought for what they believed.

Hermione rushed down the staircase, stumbling down the steps and slipping away through a shortcut that she had discovered so that no Death Eaters would see her. She held her wand with a death grip, her heart banging against her rip cage. A burst of adrenaline exploded in her veins, and she began trembling slightly, her gold-streaked amber curls flying around her as she ran into the bitter cold night.

Silver flurries of snow whirled around her, glinting in the night. They shone and were swept away with a gust of frosty winds.

The two masses of people collided with shrieks and screams, lights flashing and exploding like fireworks. Fresh blood coated the grass, and people clutched wounds, firing curse after curse and spell after spell. Some fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings were released, either stunned or dead.

Hermione looked around feverishly, trying to locate Harry or Ron. She saw a flash of the trademark Weasley hair, but when she tried to locate the person, they were already lost in the crowd of cloaks.

She knew that she wouldn't be able to find Harry. He was probably hidden, and would only come out if Riddle himself did as well.

Hermione instinctually deflected a spell that was sent whirling at her with such strength that she stumbled slightly as her shield trembled from impact. Her wand quivered in her hand, as if dancing with happiness that she was using magic again.

Nimbly, she fired a stunner at a cloaked Death Eater and ducked as a red light shot above her head. Hermione hissed every spell that she knew of, both defense and offensive, and even used some muggle skills and kicked someone in the gut.

It was chaos.

It was everything that she had predicted and more.

The screams and shouts were too hard to bear, and Hermione felt as if these tortured sounds would be the only noises that she would ever hear again.

She hissed painfully as her arm was split open and a large gash ran across her skin, blood already oozing out of the wound steadily. She felt the cool blade slice against her arm, and Hermione whipped around and blindly aimed a curse at the offender.

There was a cry from the person next to her, a small one, but it was from a young boy who was in immense pain. His face was screwed up from the amount of torture that he had probably endured, and his large, cerulean eyes implored her to help him.

Hermione's heart cried out for the boy, demanding for her to help him, while her brain screamed danger. Her heart won over and she bent down, hissing a shield charm before leaning down and trying to soothe the whimpering boy.

Blue light flickered out of her wand and rippled around their bodies, forming a temporary protective barrier in between them and the battle.

There was a collective gasp from the people who fought, and many people who were distracted had their gasps turned into screams of pain.

Hermione didn't have to look up to know that Riddle had arrived.

She had felt his presence, so enigmatic and different from anyone else's, from meters away. Her brown eyes flickered up and saw that he was staring straight into her golden-flecked eyes, eyebrows bent together into a sharp line.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Harry, with a mess of black hair and glinting green eyes, running towards her.

Everything happened in slow motion.

It was as if the world had slowed down on its axis. The noise was muted, and all she could see was Riddle and Harry. Riddle and Harry. Riddle and Harry.

… And a flash of purple light.

She knew that the spell was dark, and no shielding spell would be able to stop it. It came crashing at her at impossible speeds, spreading its deadly wings wide and trying to enclose her in death…

Hermione heard Harry's shout of despair. She heard her name: _Hermione! Hermione! _

She pushed the young boy in her arms out of harms way, shaking his clutching hands from her body.

They say that before death, your life flashes before you.

Nothing happened.

All that Hermione felt was life, loss, and love. It was life that she lived. It was everything that she lost. It was everything that she loved.

The spell inched closer and closer, whirling and spinning like a purple blade… she could see Bellatrix laughing manically, her wand pointed at Hermione…

Bellatrix's taunting words echoed in her ears, whispering and hissing her death threat…

Death extended its hands forward, curling a finger around her hair…

The curse never hit her.

One body blocked the light from hitting her. One person shielded her from the pain.

Tom. Marvolo. Riddle.

He stood in front of Hermione, grey eyes filled with such emotion that she had never seen before…

… and collapsed.

Blood pooled out of his body, leaking out of his mouth and the slices of cuts. He suddenly choked, heaving red liquid out of his body. Tendrils of blood slithered down his pale skin, leaking onto the floor.

Hermione screamed and fell to the floor, shaking and trembling with disbelief. "Tom! Tom! What… I…"

Riddle's grey eyes stared fixedly upon her, not seeing anything or anyone else but her, only her. "H-Hermione…" he whispered, and more blood slithered out of his mouth.

"_What did you do?" _Hermione murmured, her voice shaking as she gripped his ice-cold hand. "Why? I just… I wanted…"

"Listen to me," Riddle said weakly, though his voice somehow still had the same power behind it. "I… I'm sorry. I've never knew someone like you… _You _changed me, Hermione. Y-You brought me to light in my dark world…" More redness gurgled onto his skin.

"Tom––"

"Dumbledore once said… said that my biggest w-weakness… it was love…" Riddle's breathing became labored, and you could see him struggling for life in his eyes. "It is… no longer."

"Tom––"

Riddle cut her off again, heaving with effort. "K-keep the necklace…"

"I promised you, didn't I?" Hermione whispered desperately, gripping on to his hands. His muscles were beginning to loosen and her heart cried while no tears flowed.

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger," he whispered, grey eyes beginning to fall shut.

They flashed with love and pain, life sliding away from those beautiful grey orbs… "_Mon amour." _

Hermione gulped, lightly touching his heart, which she felt give one last shuddering beat. "I love you too, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

She saw a ghost of a smile appear on his lips before he fell limp.

Dead.

Forever.

For eternity.

The clearing was silent, a kind of silence that was dead and concluding.

Hermione could not find the tears to shed for him. No, he meant so much more.

"_Love is realized in death."_

Those five words.

"_Love is realized in death."_

"_Love is realized in death."_

"_Love is realized in death."_

It echoed repeatedly in her mind, an automatic repeat that didn't register.

Hermione's eyes were glazed and blank. Her hand refused to let go of his.

And then it hit.

He was dead.

Tears overflowed her eyes, coating her cheeks with warm water. An agonized cry escaped her lips and echoed eerily in the night, and she placed her forehead on where his heart used to beat. _His heart. _

_Tom, please… wake up! Wake up! Wake… wake up! _

_It's all my fault, please, it's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. Tom, I love you, wake up… It's all my fault! _

Hermione cried for everything.

It was life that she lived. It was everything that she had lost, everything that she had loved.

How life was like death.

Her heart felt as if it was ripped out of her chest, clenching in pain. She doubled over, her scream muffled by his shirt. Her face was coated with tears and blood… _His blood. _

She would never hear him speak her name again. She would never see those tantalizingly mysterious grey eyes stare straight into her soul. She would never feel his warm arms surround her body. She would never, ever see him alive. Again.

There was a burning hole in her chest, a hole that no one could ever fill. Her world was fire: flames licking up and burning her body, eating her alive. Her world was water: washing her emotions away, tearing down her heart.

Her world was pain, and her world was numb. It was gone.

He had taken it with him.

How could he be so selfish?

A raspy, insane laugh escaped her throat. Tom was so selfish, taking her heart? How selfish is _she, _taking his life?

She would take the Cruciatus Curse ten times, twenty times, any amount, and it would never hurt as much as it did now.

_At least the war is over. The Light has won… _

Another bitter, harsh laugh. The Light has won, hasn't it? The world is at peace again. Wasn't it worth it, for her and Tom to suffer for a good cause? She raised her face to the sky, letting the snow stick her face, and stared at the endless, black sky. The _Atrum Angelus _flowers that grew on the arch leading to the Riddle House were still an obsidian-black. Hermione wanted to rip the tiny flower apart. _How much more did it want? How much did she have to give up for peace? How much more did she have to hurt?_

Hermione saw Bellatrix's eyes widen with horror at what she had done. She saw the Death Eater raise her wand and aim another spell at her, meant to kill... meant for pitiless revenge.

Hermione did nothing in defense. She just looked back down at Riddle's unmoving, blank face.

The curse melted off of Hermione's body, as if she was simply unaffected. There was a collective gasp in the crowd, but other than that, no one breathed.

Why hadn't she died? Did Merlin especially want to leave her on the world to suffer?

Harsh realization made her heart tear apart. It was Riddle's love and sacrifice that protected her. It wasn't the spite from a higher being, but it was love, love from the dark soul who had never imagined sacrificing his own 'immortality' for someone else.

Just as Harry's mother's love had protected him from Voldemort, Riddle's love now protected her.

His dying soul.

She heard the people suddenly erupt in cheers, shouting: 'the war is over! The war is over!'

She felt no happiness.

Hermione felt Harry's arms around her and did not react. She clutched Riddle's dead body, crying into it and shrieking all of her anger, her pain, and her frustration out.

Her right arm was beginning to lose feeling, and she knew that the wound was leaking blood.

_Please, let me die. Please, let me die… _

She saw Harry's green eyes stare at her anxiously and heard him shout for help.

She sank into blissful unconsciousness.

**Author's Notes: **… Oh my goodness. I just murdered… I just… ah! I'M SORRY I KILLED HIM! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M–– …

Er, well, yes, this story is still going to be continued, and no, it is not at the end yet... chrissy said evilly.

To

_sNAPpyDraGon: _Thank you so much! Don't worry, you're one of my reviewers that I recognize every time you review. I saw three of the Harry Potter movies on ABC family that weekend (: I do think that you should write a story. Perhaps I'll read it?

To _Fiane: _Thank you! It's a bittersweet anticipation…

To _Bob: _I first want to thank you for making me see a point of view of my story that I didn't see before. I suppose that parts of her character that I wanted to highlight were her belief of her ability to change someone and her belief to give people a chance, rather than the logical side that we usually see.

To _Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace: _It's probably because it's so long (: I'm sad that this story is ending as well. I'm trying to hunt down another plot-bunny for a Tomione… so watch out for that, I suppose! Thank you!

To _Wicked Sapphira: _Thank you! My goodness, you are trying to sniff out my little plots! I suppose we'll figure out if I'm just trying to lead you on or not! There are probably three more chapters (excluding this one). I do care! I am a lover of humankind (… maybe) (: I'm in my school's band.

To _PinkSlytherin: _Hope you like this chappie!

To _TheRoxanneWeasley: _Thank you!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _..x: _Thank you!

To _laurelley: _Thank you! Which scene do you want me to write his point of view in? You only read this at school? Interesting!

To _vswimming12: _Thanks!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _… I love you so much. You literally forget things. _You. Are. Frickin. Awesome._

To _Yaraia: _Thank you!

To _Kira-Hope: _Aw, thanks! I'm twelve, turning thirteen the day after Christmas. I hope you like this chapter as well!

To _niiary: _Thank you! I really hope you all like this chappie… it would really make me feel bad if the ending really sucked.

To _KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun: _Thank you so much! Here's the next chappie!

To _Silver Jupiter: _I'm glad that you gave this story a chance! Thank you! I hope that the next chapters are satisfaction!

To _azulaiii: _Thank you! It's all right, just stick with me until the ending!

To _KAYKAY22PRINCESS: Thank you!_

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _

Quite horrid, don't you think?


	29. Sometimes I Forget

**Disclaimer: **Though I'd think it to be obvious by now, I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author Notes: **So yes… chapter 29! Just a heads up, there will be three more chapters: this one, the next one, and the ending. I was originally going to write an alternate ending… Well, maybe I'll decide to do that later. Thank you for your lovely reviews!

A quick thanks to _Wicked Sapphira _for recommending this song! Love you!

_The world was on fire  
No one could save me but you  
Strange what desire will make foolish people do  
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you  
No I don't want to fall in love  
(This love is only gonna break your heart)  
No I don't want to fall in love  
(This love is only gonna break your heart)  
With you  
With you_

_-Chris Isaak, Wicked Game_

Her eyes opened to be greeted with a stark-white ceiling that was so bright that she cringed and squinted her eyes in discomfort.

Sunlight streamed in from the large windows, warming her limbs. The warmth spread all over her body, making her feel as if she were wrapped up in a cocoon of the most desirable warmth. Dust spiraled upwards and shimmered in the golden light.

"She's practically loony, Harry," a familiar voice sliced through Hermione's speculations. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard this particular voice. He was here. He was alive.

Before she could muster the strength to answer him, Harry responded to Ron's accusation.

"Ron… Hermione's been through traumatic times. You must be kind and careful around her… she's bound to be sensitive." Hermione felt a hand brush through the strands of her limp hair that was splayed across the hospital bed. She immediately felt her heart well up with passion for Harry. It was a sibling-like passion, and Hermione knew that Harry would forever be a brother to her.

Hermione's heart suddenly felt heavier when she remembered the first words that Ron had said. 'She's practically loony'. He wasn't speaking about her, was he? Then, she remembered Harry's answer, and her heart filled with dread.

The last couple of moments of consciousness suddenly were recollected, and the colorful scenes of blood, screams, and pain refilled her mind. Where were the girls? Was the boy that she had saved all right? Was Riddle…?

Her entire body froze.

Riddle was dead. _Tom _was dead. He had died… saving her life. Her life! He saved her from Bellatrix… and the curse hit him instead…

Tears immediately filled her eyes and a lump formed. A lone tear slid down her alabaster cheek, sliding down her cheekbones and towards her chin, where it curved down to her neck. Not one of the two boys saw.

"Sensitive?" Ron inquired, softening his voice slightly. "Don't get me wrong, I love Hermione. But… _Harry, _you saw the way she cried over the slimy git's body… _Voldemort, _Harry, over _Voldemort's _body."

She heard Harry sigh quietly. "Ron… did you notice? When Bellatrix Lestrange tried to aim a Killing Curse at her, the spell had simply melted away and she was left unaffected. How many people have you known who have survived the Killing Curse?"

"Well, you did Harry, but your mum sacrificed herself out of love and provided you the ultimate protection––" Hermione could imagine Ron's eyes suddenly widening in realization. "You don't mean… _He _loved _Hermione?" _

There was some rustling before Harry spoke up again.

"I honestly don't know. But there was something about the way… There was just _something _in the air… that seemed to be that he… loved her. It just…"

"It seems like she loves him back. I wasn't aware that a snake could love in the first place," Ron answered harshly, and Hermione could hear the pain and betrayal raw in his voice. She trembled slightly.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered, and she felt cool finger touch her forehead. "Are you awake?"

Taking a deep breath (though carefully, mind you, because she felt soreness in every muscle), Hermione opened her eyes, blinking spastically as the same austere ceiling greeted her. She let her eyes adjust before she focused on Harry's emerald green eyes.

"Hermione," Ron murmured, standing up from the chair where he had sat. "You… all right?"

She could tell that there was something different in their friendship the moment her eyes landed on Ron. His face was harder, more masculine and tough, and his eyes were harder to read. It was as if he was… colder.

Her eyes flickered back to Harry, who, like Ron, looked much more mature. His green eyes had a new depth to them that hid memories of deaths and tortures.

"I… I think so," Hermione rasped, clearing her throat.

"Good… good," Ron answered, looking away from her. "I'm glad that you're back."

"Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's," Ron stated clearly.

"How long was I out?"

This time, Harry answered, gently picking up her cold hand and saying, as if a person who was afraid of breaking something by simply breathing. "A week. You lost a great deal of blood."

"A week?" Hermione knit her eyebrows together. But isn't blood loss easily solved by Blood Replenishing potions?"

She saw Harry smile slightly, as if glad that her smart-aleck self was still part of her character. However, when Ron spoke up, she could see the sleepless days apparent in his eyes.

"We couldn't wake you," Ron whispered brokenly, squeezing his eyes tightly as if reliving the pain of a memory. "Nothing worked. We tried every way make you awaken:spells, runes… another Healer even suggested dumping icy water on your head. We were too desperate to say no and stay logical, you were always the logical one…"

Hermione snorted. "So you let him do it 'the muggle way'?"

"Well, yeah…" Ron said sheepishly, giving her a wan smile. "If it got you awake, we would've done anything."

There was a silence among the three best friends, each one immersed in their own thoughts, before Ron spoke up again.

"It was scary, 'Mione," Ron whispered, staring straight into her amber eyes. "Your heart was working, the blood was getting into your system, but you wouldn't wake up. The Healers couldn't find anything wrong with your body, and we were wondering if we were going to lose you forever…" His eyes were hurt and pained. "I don't want to lose you, 'Mione. I'd rather have you be you than have another person be in your body."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears again, feeling her heart cry at the words that Ron spoke. "Ron…"

"I thought that we had lost you," Ron murmured softly, looking away and seeming to be blinking tears away from his eyes. "I thought we had lost you _again." _

"Ron," Hermione whispered again, reaching forward and touching his hand. "Ron."

The door suddenly flew open, and a petite Chinese woman stepped through with a floating piece of paper next to her. With her sleek black hair tied into a tight ponytail and a pair of glasses set on her nose, she looked perfectly professional.

"Miss Granger?" the Healer inquired.

"Yes?"

The Healer gave her a warm smile. "I'm glad to have seen that you have awaken. My name is Heather, and I've been your Healer for the last week. Now if you two gentlemen would kindly leave so that I can examine Miss Granger's condition…?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance before leaving silently, giving Hermione a comforting look before closing the door behind them.

"Now, Miss Granger," the Healer began. "You have been through many terrifying experiences. Are you able to recall them?"

Hermione immediately felt her face shut down from all emotion as she answered frostily: "You have no right to ask for my memories. My memories are my right to share, and I'm choosing not to."

Healer Heather immediately drew back before saying comfortingly, "Miss Granger, I am not asking for you to divulge your secrets. I am not a therapist, and I am not inquiring about your personal life. I only would like to know if your memory is still intact."

Though she was still suspicious of the motherly Healer, Hermione felt a pang of guilt as she reassessed her response. "My memories are perfectly fine, thank you. I'm sorry to be so rude… I'm just…"

"I understand, Miss Granger. Many of the war heroes and heroines still cannot believe that the war has ended and are still in constant state of instinctual survival reactions," Heather said kindly, scribbling a note on the floating piece of paper besides her. The paper didn't even tremble, as if an invisible desk was underneath it. "Can you identify any symptoms of pain?"

Hermione flexed her muscles and winced. "My muscles are sore," she said truthfully.

"That is to be expected," Heather answered gently. "After using large amounts of magic and strength as well as being in an unconscious state for a week, it is understandable for the body to feel sore for the next few days. It should go away soon."

"Healer?"

"Yes?"

"How come I was unconscious for an entire week?" Hermione bit her lip, thinking of all of the possibilities, but came up with none.

Healer Heather sighed slightly, shifting her weight to another foot. "We cannot understand it. Though I do not have evidential proof, I'd say that it was emotional trauma that truly shut your body down. The blood loss only gave the push, and after that has been cured, the mental mind took control and put you into a state of unconsciousness to temporarily numb any sort of pain."

Hermione nodded slowly, taking in the information fully. "Are there any side-effects that I may suffer from in the future?"

"I can't be able to say exactly," Heather answered. "It can be possible that you may faint randomly or have more nightmares than usual, but other than that, we'd have to wait for nature to take its course."

"When are you going to let me go?"

Heather smiled kindly. "You have no other injuries. Only time can heal any broken heart you have," she said sincerely. Hermione peered at the young Healer and saw that she was compassionate and… well, in such a way, Heather reminded her of an intelligent Luna Lovegood…

Frankly, Luna was known as 'Loony'. However, despite their contradicting beliefs in the past, Hermione knew that Luna was intelligent. She saw things that no one else saw and she understood people when no one else did. She believed and she was a free spirit, roaming and seeing past prejudices. Sure, Luna could be insane and slightly too… gullible and illogical, but Hermione still respected the dreamy, quiet girl.

The Healer had sensed that there was something black, something… broken, inside of her. Hermione was as broken as any person could be. Her heart was ripped and her mind was blank. Her skin was bloodied and stained, and her eyes were filled with tears and haunting memories.

"Ah, I almost forgot," Heather said quietly, pulling a velvet bag out of her pocket. It was a beautiful shade of blue, a royal color, and it fit perfectly in Hermione's hands. "This was on your neck when you fainted. We had to take it off when we went through the scan–– I provides protection, no?"

Hermione nearly ripped open the bag as she waited with a bated breath of anticipation. It was the locket. Unharmed, still bathing in its shining glory, it glimmered as if recognizing her.

"Excuse me?"

Heather raised an eyebrow. "We attempted to use some spells to detect injury, but this locket prevented any penetration of magic to your body. I suspected that it is a locket for protection and counters any curse or spell set on its wearer."

Hermione slipped the cool necklace over her neck, relishing the feel of the metal against her skin. Immediately, she felt peace overcome her, a strange type of peace that did not leave her blissfully unaware, but gave her a feeling of security. It was the type of feeling when your mother gave her children a loving embrace, vowing to protect them forever, even though you knew that it was something that could never happen.

It felt like _him. _

The warmth that must be somewhere in his heart shone through _this pendant. _Though his exterior was cold and malignant, there must've been somewhere inside of him that was as golden, as pure, as this feeling in this significant piece of jewelry.

Hermione did not understand why she loved him. Was it because she cared for the most vulnerable? True, Tom was the farthest from 'vulnerable' as any person could be, but somewhere inside, his heart lay, vulnerable and fragile. Layers and layers of steely ice barriers protected it, but it was still there, weak and unloved.

She knew that it wasn't enough to simply love something because they had a strong exterior with a weak heart. She knew that it would take much more for her to feel this strong emotion for someone else: Why did she love Riddle while she had never loved anyone else? There were several people in her life that she could love… why Riddle?

Love. What was love? Is it that simple affection, that liking and desire, for another person? Is it that feeling of security and care? Is it kindness and sacrifice?

Therefore, it is safe to say that there are many depths of love. There is that sibling love, a strong bond filled with care, even if it may be buried deep within. There is that family love: your parents' affection. There is love between friendship: devotion and loyalty. Finally, there is lovers' love.

Unconditional? Irrevocable? Indescribable?

I believe that I could write millions of words, thousands of pages, all filled with letters and phrases that describe love. Even after those thousands of pages, millions of words, one would never know how it felt to feel such passion for another until you have felt it yourself.

Do you question your love for someone?

Sometimes, love can be so strange that you do not understand. _Hermione _did not understand.

Why Riddle, she asks again.

He is different. He is mysterious, intelligent, and strange.

How could she still love him after what he has done? He had killed and murdered thousands of children and families, leaving people only to grovel behind and cry. He had tortured and created pain in the most merciless ways, leaving only tears and blood streaked on his path. The tears and blood was never his.

How could she simply forgive him for such deeds?

The answer was: she could not.

Hermione couldn't forgive the murderer for killing her parents. She couldn't forgive him for murdering little children who deserved a life. She couldn't forgive him for the grief that he had caused on the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds. The tears shed from family to family were like bloodied water. Hermione would never forget how much pain she felt when her parents died. The pain was a fresh wound on her chest, slashed across her heart. It numbed. It burned. It dissolved. It struck lightning.

So why did she still care for him? Why did she still feel love? Why did he not let her simply die at Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?

Why did he give her this necklace filled with protection enchantments?

Hermione left the hospital that day with a troubled mind and soul.

O

The Wizarding World clamored for change.

The first month was numbed and blank. People cried and screamed. People grieved and mourned. The war that they had won felt more of a loss than a victory.

So many were dead: the old, the young, the innocent, and the not-as-much-so. All dead. Few people survived, and the decrease in population stood out like a neon sign against black windows.

Families were torn apart. There was an endless list of people in the obituary section of the newspapers. There were endless funerals. There was endless gloom.

You would expect that the grey, desolate lands of the battlefields would become alive and cheery again after the war. There was no such thing. People only wallowed in gloom. People only drowned in their own feelings.

It wasn't until weeks later that the Ministry of Magic was set into a brisk pace, breaking the expanse of timeless days. They reorganized themselves. Kingsley Shacklebolt became the Minister of Magic and coaxed the world back into life. Hogwarts was recommenced. Diagon Alley's stores opened with new selling points and Hogsmeade regained its former charm. Jobs were given and accepted.

Kingsley set himself to work and the former Death Eaters were captured. Bellatrix Lestrange was later captured by a group of Aurors, and she was soon doomed with the Dementor's Kiss. Nothing could compensate for her actions.

Hermione fought for Draco Malfoy and the few of the Slytherins who had changed sides. Her mind worked furiously and she argued for their innocence in court, but her former emotion and heart was deadened. Her smile had no warmth. Her eyes held no compassion. It had no former glory of the Gryffindor spirit. Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, the Greengrasses, and the Zabinis were pardoned with the condition of a one-year ban from magic and a five-year close watch. Lucius Malfoy was condemned for thirty-five years in Azkaban prison, and both mother and son felt no sympathy.

Hermione spent her days wandering around Grimmauld Place. She spoke to no one unless spoken to. She read no books and wrote no papers.

She found a companion out of Draco Malfoy. He was the only one who understood the Light and Dark the way she did. Though he did not understand her perception of Tom Marvolo Riddle, he could perceive more than any other person could. Many times, they would sit in silence and stare outside at the lands. England brightened every day.

Blaise and Ginny fell in love. They fought and bickered, but in such a way, it was a flirty cuteness in between the two. Ginny cried on his shoulder and he would comfort her. They were made for each other.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron drifted apart. Ron was continuously accusing Hermione of her loyalties and alliances, and she could always feel his searing glare on her neck, where Riddle had branded her.

She had nightmares at night.

She would scream and thrash and shout in the middle of the night, and Harry would incessantly check on her. He knew all about nightmares, she mused bitterly.

Tears flooded her eyes at least once a day. The pain, the heartbreak, and the confusion. All of it. But Hermione never took off the necklace that Tom gave her. No one questioned her.

Hermione knew that Ron and Harry were concerned for her. They worried and talked about her, she knew. They must think that she was possessed.

"Hermione?" Harry called up from downstairs. His voice had a slight edge to it, as if there was something that was bothering him. "Would you come down here for a moment?"

Biting her lip slightly, she pushed herself off the bed, hearing a faint creak as she walked towards the door and clunked downstairs. Her face was void of any emotion as she turned to face her two friends, seeing their anxious faces with no surprise.

"Hermione… we're… worried," Harry said slowly, placing a hand on her shoulder and steering her towards a seat. When she sat down, he sighed, his green eyes troubled. "It's been months, and… you can't seem to live. You're almost… living dead."

"You've got to get on with life!" Ron cut in bluntly. "Get over it. Everyone's suffered. I've suffered. My family has suffered. Dammit, Harry has definitely suffered. So get over it."

Hermione's eyes displayed no sign that he had hurt her at all. She turned her cold gaze on him and stared blankly.

"All you can do is fight for those slimy gits of Slytherin in court. You need a life, 'Mione! The Dark has won if you have no more life anyways!"

No answer.

"Hermione," Harry took a deep breath, taking his wand out of his robes. She tensed slightly, eyes focused entirely on his wand hand. "We love you. We care. We just… we just want you to be happy, okay? Please… I'm sorry…"

"What are you doing," Hermione hissed, her voice hoarse and frosty.

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at the area between her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Forgive me… _Obliviate." _

O

**WAR HEROINE: NO MEMORY? **

_By Rita Skeeter_

_After questioning the war heroine, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, for more exclusive information on what really happened in the war, it seems to be that she has no recollection of the inside story. _

_It is common knowledge that Miss Granger had been separated from the other two war heroes, Mr. Harry James Potter and Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley. However, she claims to not be able to recall what had happened to her. Quote: "It feels like a blank spot in my mind. I can't fill it in," Hermione claims, frustrated. _

_With eager readers dying to find this inside story, I went to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to inquire what had happened to her memory. How can she not remember this dramatic time?_

_While both members of the famous 'Golden Trio' refuse to divulge any 'personal information' on what really happened to Hermione Granger, a receptionist at St. Mungo's who had overheard the Healers discussing Miss Granger's condition can enlighten us with a few details._

"_They claimed for her to have suffered from traumatic events," Maddie, 25, says confidently. "They believe that her painful memories were too much, and somehow, they went against her and her mind was wiped clear of what had happened. They said that it was a survival instinct of the body."_

_Is this true? What traumatic events had Hermione Granger suffered through as the two other heroes had been out trying to devise ways to fight You-Know-Who? Is this the end of the memories that Hermione Granger has? Watch out for the next edition, loyal readers, where I uncover more of the truth._

_Your loyal writer,_

_Rita_

**Author's Notes: **So, what do you think? Please keep on reading, we're so close to the end! I hope you guys like the ending... no, Hermione will not be so painlessly oblivious to everything in the end... Please review!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you!

To _Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace: _Thank you so much! I suppose most of those people under 14 are not writers (: I love Carrie Underwood too! *Sigh * I feel the love (:

To _west carson girl: _Here 'tis!

To _Fiane: _I was so sad when I reread it):

To _magentasouth: _You'll see how it turns out… hopefully you like it!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _I loved the Deathly Hallows Part 1! It was awesome!

To _laurelley: _*speechless *

To _HopeHealer: _I'm sorry! I'm a murderer!

To _Vampiress Idrial: _No crime, I'm just a minor! (:

To _melissa1995: _Thank you! Here 'tis!

To _Buckbeak Ate My Wand: _How do I respond to that… eh…

To _smileylol: _Don't worry, I love long reviews! Thank you so much for those praises! I'm flattered that this story can be compared to others.

To _TheRoxanneWeasley: _Sorry, but I'm probably not doing the deleted scene): Anyhow… thank you! Woah… I changed people. I feel influential. I'm glad that you are now a Tomione shipper!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Happy late birthday! (Again!) I may write another Tomione once I hunt down a plot bunny…

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Crying? Really? Thank you! (Is it weird that I thank you for tears?) Yes, revenge is needed, eh? Nah, don't stay mad (:

To _Kira-Hope: _I am scared. Very. (:

To _azulaiii: _Realistic… very big compliment, especially for a Tomione! Thanks!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! Don't worry about it!

To _EYESviolet: _Do not say the Lord's name in vain, dear. *Kills Malfoy * … Just kidding. *Speechless *

To _ShadowsDaughter: _I suppose you'll see! (:

To _mekom: _Thank you (especially for saying what you liked about this fic)!

To _KraZiiePyroxHavemoreFun: _*Speechless *

To _Argentum Lingua: _I'm actually glad that I could sway your emotions (:

To _Lady Kaliska: _I admit that I get miffed (I'm a sensitive little girl), but still, I want to thank you because you actually took the time to find my weaknesses in this story. I take this advice to heart, and really, I am thankful!

To _emily713: _Thank you! Don't worry, we all get emotional (:


	30. Sometimes I Lose

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'.

**Author's Notes: ** Happy Holidays, everyone! The 26th of December is my birthday… so be sure to wish a happy birthday to your beloved writer here! (:  
I know that many of you want Tom to come back to life, somehow. I have the rest of the story planned, and if you want to propose an alternate ending, just ask! I love all of you who reviewed! Thank you to _sNAPpyDraGon, _who was my 300th reviewer!

Here's one of my favorite songs:

_He will try to take away my pain  
And he just might make me smile  
But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead  
Oh, holding my breath  
Won't see you again  
Something keeps me holding on to nothing  
Come on, come on  
Don't leave me like this  
I thought I had you figured out  
Can't breathe whenever you're gone  
Can't turn back now  
I'm haunted _

_-Taylor Swift, Haunted _

She hated it.

She hated how everyone looked at her as if she were some horse on sale.

Every time Hermione walked through Diagon Alley, people would stare at her. Some people were admiring, worshipping their heroine, while others were suspicious of the sudden disappearance of her memories. However, the worst looks were from the ones who would show absolute pity. She didn't want any pity. She didn't _need _pity. Pity did nothing to help her, to make her remember.

How did she lose her memories?

Hermione searched her mind, and everyday, she tried to push the steel wall blocking her from accessing her memories. Everyday, she would come up with nothing but a blank slate. There was nothing for her to remember.

There was a strange feeling pressing in her chest, making her believe that those memories were important to her. Her heart ached, as if love had been wrenched from her chest. It made her believe that the memories were everything that made her and changed her; it made her believe that something dear had been snatched away.

They say that what you don't know can't hurt you.

_I beg to differ. _

Hermione became frustrated as no progress ensued. People preformed charms, trying to reverse the sudden disappearance of her memories. Ancient rituals, both magical and muggle, were presented and all of them failed. Healers and doctors examined her and found no sign of bodily harm that could have resulted in her memory-loss.

She read books and did research, searching for reasons. For once, she found nothing. Book after book provided nothing but useless rubbish that she had already known.

It became aggravating as the weeks past. One girl, named Kaitlyn, had once visited her, but the visit recovered none of her memory. The strange friendship with Draco Malfoy stunned her, and she only went along with what life presented to spare feelings.

The Gryffindor recalled nearly nothing of the war. The last memory that she had was only a simple wisp of a recollection: she was standing in the courtyard of Hogwarts, and there it was, the Dark Mark, extending its smoky green arms around the castle like a dome.

Tom Riddle had something to do with her, she knew. The fact that he had mysteriously appeared at Hogwarts was still known to her. But she knew nothing about him.

The silver necklace that hung from her neck confused her. She had taken it off once, and immediately, a feeling of cold, vulnerability washed over her. It felt as if her heart had been stolen, or perhaps her magic had been ripped away.

After pondering on this subject, Hermione finally admitted defeat to her fellow friends. She stopped her extensive research, which would take hours out of her days. She began to live again.

Hermione dated Ron for two weeks before deciding that there was no spark in between them. It was of mutual consent, and there was nothing but a slight bruise that would recover in between the two friends.

The Wizarding World was healing, she knew. People began to wear cloaks that were not the color of a mourning black, and the population was increasing steadily. More children were smiling and skipping down the streets of Wizarding London, and the muggles sank back into a relaxed way of life. The sun sprouted out of the heavy thunderclouds and graced the world with golden rays.

People loved and were loved.

Hermione was loved. However, Hermione never found the person that she loved as a companion for life.

Whenever she kissed someone, it felt wrong. There was as if a piece of a puzzle that was missing: a big gap that would only get bigger and hurt more as time went by. She couldn't love anymore than a friends' love.

Sometimes, Hermione would catch Harry and Ron whispering about something, their eyes darting to her every couple of seconds. She had a sneaking suspicion that they had done something, something important to her, but nothing ever showed up.

However, one night, she dreamt.

_The necklace glowed and radiated warmth on her chest, twining around her like a snake. A house, a magnificent house, stood before her. It was magnificent and ancient, a type that was neither as grand as the Malfoy Manor nor as detailed as the Zabini's. _

_It was home. _

_There was a lone figure standing on a hill, the silver light of the moon outlining his silhouette. He was tall and lithe, and grey eyes glittered in the dark. _

"_How could you forget?" he whispered, his angel voice pained and broken. _

_Hermione began to walk towards him, but his figure flickered, as if not substantial. When she started to run, her cloak billowing out behind her, he always seemed to float away. Farther and farther he went… Her arms were stretched out in front of her, trying to grasp his hand, but it slipped out of her reach every time… _

"_We do not trust them. No, they have no honesty, no nobility... __Wake up, Meus Leana, and remember. Remember…" _

_Hermione felt something akin to angel wings folding around her body, the touch soft and loving. It felt like silk and feathers against her delicate skin, a sheen of protection…_

"_Hermione…"_

_The locket around her neck burned her skin, coiling and moving as if a snake's body. _

_There were flashes of brilliant pictures that whirled around her body, encasing her with fascinating events and scenarios. She felt them. She felt the cold snow on her skin, and she felt the cool lips against hers. She felt everything. She felt pain and love, and she felt hatred and anger. She felt everything. She felt everything. She felt _everything.

As if gasping for a gulp of air when a person is swept into a tormenting current, Hermione suddenly bolted straight up, eyes snapping open. The dream was so real, so… tangible. She reached her pale hand forward, her skin was glowing in the dark of the night, and she tried to touch the phantom of Tom Riddle. He was not there.

Tears suddenly spilled over her amber eyes and coated her skin with a mask of clear water, glistening and reflecting even the minimal light.

She remembered.

She remembered _everything. _

Hermione screamed into her pillow, a muffled scream so that it would not awaken Harry and Ron, who slept in the rooms across the hall. Ginny was at Blaise's place. How could they do this? How?

What gave them the right to take away her memories? These were _her _memories, and it was her goddamned right to keep them!

A part of her felt guilty. It was a small part, but it was there. She had truly loved the enemy. Did they not deserve to punish her for such sins?

But she could not help whom she loved. Her heart did as it desired, and her brain was an entirely different matter altogether. She loved Tom Marvolo Riddle, hell, she loved him _bloody a lot, _and she wanted to cherish every living soul of a memory of him.

She felt so betrayed.

Didn't they understand? Her experiences had _changed _her. Even though they wanted her to be happy, she would never be truly happy either way. Without these memories, she would be lost. Though she may be engulfed with grief and horrors with this knowledge, she would rather suffer than lose them. They were precious, and these memories were unlike any other. These memories were _hers. _

Her memories is who she is, and they must accept that.

Once again, the guilt. It was here again, making her stagger in her angry rant in her mind. Hermione buried her head in her hands, feeling the salty tears on her lips. This man that she loved had killed Harry's parents. Though he hadn't killed them yet, in the future, he would. Harry… Harry must feel horrible.

With an agonized cry, she clenched the pendant in her fist, letting her tears wet the surface of the silver.

Ron. Ron had never been the most understanding person in the world. He… he would never forgive her, she knew. He would forever blame her, no matter if she got over her heartbreak or not. The strange veil over his eyes when he talked to her confirmed that. Their friendship was never going to be the same.

How could she feel so bad yet feel so betrayed at the same time? She blamed them for everything, but she blamed herself for everything as well. Everything hurt. Her heart, her mind, and her conscience.

Hermione's eyes flickered to the clock.

Five thirty in the morning.

Hastily but stealthily, she crept over to her closet and withdrew a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a cloak. Being one of the Golden Trio, she found particular skill at creeping about in the times when no one else was about. Slipping these articles of clothing on silently, she slunk out of Grimmauld Place into the bitter cold morning air. The frost coated the grass, and she shivered slightly, pulling the cloak around her tighter, and then promptly apparated straight to the common library.

She arrived in front of the golden library with a sharp crack, a disturbingly loud noise compared to the beautiful silence of nature. The sky was a rosy hue, shading and lightly merging with oranges, yellows, blues, and purples. Hermione stood there, staring up at the watercolor painting, mesmerized with the beauty. She was lost in it.

"Good morning, mam," a guard greeted her sleepily. She eyed the coffee that was still steaming hot in his hands and then nodded her acknowledgment.

"Morning," Hermione said quietly, daintily walking up the stone steps and through the bronze doors. She heard the guard gasp sharply when he realized that he had just spoken to _the Hermione Granger _and groaned under her breath. The fame had done no good to her mood.

Walking at a pace that fit her 'woman who is on a mission' style, she immediately ducked from bookcase to bookcase, lightly brushing a finger on some book bindings and reading the title quickly. Finally, she slipped through a barrier to the darker section of books, casting a quiet '_Lumos' _with her wand.

Expertly, Hermione plucked a thick book from one bookcase and flipped it open, drifting her wand over it to read the small black print:

_Tempus Fugit is an ancient spell that is usually considered a dark incantation. This is common misinterpretation. While this spell is very powerful and can change things drastically, there is no sign of dark magic within this piece._

'_Prodeo in vicis, is est non a vitium' is the incantation for this spell, roughly translated into 'go forward in time, it is not a crime'. _

_A variation of 'Tempus Fugit' is also known. The incantation is 'tempus omnia sed memorias privat', loosely translated into: 'Time deprives all but memories'. This spell would launch the person into the past instead of the future. _

_Time travelers are very aware that meddling with time is a dangerous journey. This is mainly because time is a very complicated aspect and idea. The best way to explain how this works is using different dimensions of a world. _

_Lets say that there are three dimensions of the world. One dimension would be the present, which is current day. The other would be the past, and the last one would be the future. If one were to use 'Tempus Fugit' as a method of time travel, their past self would continue living. However, there is as if a duplicate of that past self, transporting them to the present dimension. This way, no events that their past self has lived through will be changed. When the duplicate of them arrives at the present dimension, their original self will disappear and become replaced with the time travelled version. _

_However, if the time-travelled version of a person is killed in any case, their original self will appear once again. This is mainly the reason that this spell is considered dark: people possibly can have two lives or more by time travelling like this. _

Hermione gasped, the book sliding from her leg slightly and hitting the floor with a _thunk. _

Tom Riddle, as she knew him, had been transported from the past and was a 'duplicate' of himself. After being here for a couple of months, he had… died… for her.

Hermione found this thought incredibly hard to swallow, as if it was the lump in her throat that she was currently trying to gulp down.

She focused herself on the task at hand once more, busying her mind… just like she always had for years. For years, she had numbed her emotions, concentrating on helping her friends, and _only _doing such research…

She brushed a single tear away from her cheek and took a deep breath. Since Tom had died, that meant that Lord Voldemort would enter this world.

Her heart began to beat faster and faster until it was nearly shaking her entire frame. Immediately, her hand found its way to her wand, clenching it tightly as her eyes scanned the almost-empty library as if expecting him to suddenly pop up and _Avada _her.

Dread filled her system. Lord Voldemort would appear once again. He would rule the world and fill it with darkness… he would kill little children and split families…

The war was not ended.

It was only just beginning.

The pendant, which lay against her chest, was suddenly humming, as if preparing to protect her. It sensed her fear. She remembered how she had cursed the _Atrum Angelus _flowers, but now, she realized that those flowers hadn't lied. There would be no peace if Lord Voldemort was coming back.

Hermione wondered how Harry could've wiped her memories if she was wearing this necklace. Her hand wound its way upwards so that her free hand (the one not clutching the wand) and traced the patterns on the pendant. Tom would never mess up a spell, she knew it.

Suddenly, she realized what kind of spell he must've placed. _"We do not trust them..."_

He must've based the protection spell on trust and safety. She _trusted _Harry, and she felt no fear when she was around him. That was why Harry's spell was not deflected while the Healers at St. Mungo's could not cast a spell on her. While her body was unconscious, the pendant must've immediately reacted and protected her because she was unable to fight back. The cuts that she had gained on her arm in the war were of muggle knives, not wands.

However, Tom must've doubted the protection spell. Perhaps it did not protect against Unforgiveable Curses, as nothing did except for solid material. That was why he saved her…

Hermione's mind trailed back to Lord Voldemort. She barely noticed how she now separated the two people so distinctly: it had became an instinct.

_Harry! _Her mind shouted at her. Harry would be in the most danger… She did not know if Lord Voldemort would act the same way as Tom did. Was he still a nose-less, merciless Dark Lord? Was he aware of everything that she had done?

Hermione jammed the book back onto its shelf and dusted off invisible lint from her cloak before leaping up and walking quickly towards the entrance of the library. A few people were mulling around now, gradually increasing as the sun rose higher in the sky. She slipped through the doors and stepped down the steps quickly, feeling only slightly guilty when she did not acknowledge the same guard who stood at the doors.

After walking a couple of steps outside of the perimeters of the library, she apparated once again, this time to arrive in front of Grimmauld Place. However, when the old, grey house came into view, she immediately sensed the darkness that reigned over this area.

Her heart skipped a beat.

There it was.

It was the Dark Mark.

How was it possible for Lord Voldemort to only arrive now, when Hermione was not present? Had he waited specifically for her to leave so that she would not stand in the way? Did he know who she was? How had he gotten into Grimmauld Place?

Suddenly, the small talk over if Grimmauld Place should remain under the Fidelius Charm seemed impulsive. Everyone had agreed to remove the Fidelius Charm after the war, since it had seemed to be entirely safe then. Why hadn't they debated for long hours over the protection? Why hadn't they planned out all possible outcomes?

Hermione felt a pang in her chest.

It was always _her _job to plan ahead.

_No turning back now, _Hermione sighed as she took a deep breath. _Please, Merlin let Harry and Ron be okay… _She prayed with all of her heart. No matter how many times Ron and Harry did not understand her thinking, they were her friends, her brothers. They––

A sharp, piercing scream suddenly jolted her out of her cautious planning.

_Ron. _

Another shout took up where this scream ended. It was the shout of fear, the scream of pain.

_Harry. _

Hermione immediately rushed forward holding her wand tightly. She ran for the doorknob, reaching forward to grasp it, planning to wrench it open and shout a _Stupefy _at the enemy…

She was bounced back and thrown into the street, ending with a jarring crash on the cement pavement. Groaning slightly, Hermione flipped herself off of her back and onto her feet, crawling forward and pushing herself up.

It was a very powerful shield spell that must've stopped her. Knitting her eyebrows together, she rammed forward again, jiggling the doorknob desperately, only to find herself being sent through the air in a graceful arch and slammed onto the ground again.

Who would've cast such a charm over the door? She knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't see so far ahead as to shield the area from anyone else to enter. She also knew that the Death Eaters wouldn't care if another innocent victim strolled in.

She began to panic as another scream punctured the otherwise quiet morning. How could she help them if she was locked on the outside? Hermione directed her wand at the door, trying to blast it open, willing it to give her entrance, and attempting to make it crack then explode into smithereens. All of her magic simply melted off of the door.

_Please, please… open! _Hermione thought frantically. Her eyes suddenly widened and her hand was as if on automatic as it reached upwards and grasped the necklace that protected her. It sensed the danger in front of her… she wrenched the necklace off, trembling slightly as the predictable coldness enveloped her, and blasted open the door successfully.

"NO!" Harry shouted, his voice hoarse. "RON!"

A flash of lime green light shot through the house, making eerie shadows and creating a green hue over the walls before the light faded. It smelt of power.

Hermione froze. _No, no… please, let it not be…_

"Goodbye, _Boy-Who-Lived. _Evidently, it is time for you… _to die." _

Her heart beat in her throat when she heard this voice. It wasn't Tom's beautiful bass intonation… This one resembled a snake, hissing and striking fear into the hearts of many… This one belonged to Lord Voldemort.

_No. _

"_Avada Kedavra." _

There was a thump of a body against the wooden floor. She heard a head slam against the floor sharply, and a crack echoed through the house.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was dead.

Hope was lost.

Hermione heard an evil laugh accompany it, as well as a shatter of glass. It was such a cliché moment that she could've laughed if not for her horror.

Harry could not be dead. Ron could not be dead… No, this wasn't how it was meant to be. Harry was supposed to live and defeat Lord Voldemort… Ron was supposed to live and be happy with his family…

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…" _

The prophecy echoed in her head eerily, whispering and hissing in her ear.

She should've known.

Tom Riddle had died at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange, not Harry. The prophecy must be correct, and in this case, Harry must either defeat Lord Voldemort or Lord Voldemort must murder Harry.

A quick crack of apparition drove Hermione to enter back into reality. Quickly clasping the necklace that Tom had given her around her neck, Hermione ran towards the figures, raising her wand. _You have to mean it… _She gathered up everything that made her feel hate. Hate for Voldemort, hate for life, hate for death… hate for people, hate for anger, hate for hate…

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

A bolt of brilliant green light shot out and hit a figure square on the chest. She saw the man suddenly bend and then collapse as if he had lost all bones in his body…

It was Mulciber. He was the one who killed Ron.

Before she could muster the strength for her second Unforgiveable Curse, she heard a cold snort.

Fear immediately made her freeze in place.

Theodore Nott.

When the Daily Prophet listed all of the Death Eaters that they had caught, Hermione had searched thoroughly for this particular man's name. This newspaper was the only thing that she read before she had her memory wiped by Harry and Ron. However, when she saw that Nott had not been captured after-all, she only found her nightmares more haunting and terrifying. After this incident, she stopped reading the Daily Prophet as well.

"Well, well. It seems like the mudblood kitten has ran straight into the snake's den," he sneered, his dark brown eyes scrutinizing Hermione with disdain. His lips twisted into a condescending smirk. "Potty was killed by the Dark Lord, haven't you heard? Oh wait, your ears are too filled with dirt to hear anything."

Hermione began to shake with barely constrained anger, her hands clenching into fists. Forget good morals, she wanted revenge. Revenge for Harry, revenge for Ron, revenge for every single hurt soul in the world. She wanted to _kill him. _

"Oh, did I anger you, little mudblood?" Nott taunted, his dark cider eyes seeming to glow with bloodlust. "I _apologize. _I also _apologize _for being unable to hang around… the _Dark Lord_ awaits me. However, I'm sure that he'd give me some time to add a simple Cruciatus Curse here and there…" he licked his lips in anticipation.

Hermione tensed immediately. It had been some time since she felt the pain of the Cruciatus, and the memory of it was still burned in her mind, fresh and a non-extinguishable flame.

"_Crucio." _

She saw the spell whirl at her with power, though not as much power as Tom had when he cast it at her. Hermione closed her eyes, prepared to fight her instincts to scream, preparing to show her strength and defiance…

It did not hit her.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, the locket growing hot on her skin. She had thought that the pendant only protected against those spells that were not Unforgivables… perhaps he set specific defenses against his own Death Eaters?

Hermione remembered how Tom had especially distrusted Theodore Nott. Was this another plan of his?

The spell suddenly bounced off of the shield, making her tremble from impact, and then flew straight back to its source. Nott suddenly was swept off of his feet, sent crashing to the wall, and was screaming in absolute, fiery pain.

Hermione took this chance and fled.

She knew that it was no use, running. The Dark had won and there was nothing left to do. She only wished to find her friends and run and hide.

She only wished for a life.

**Author's Notes: **Wow, this is a very long chappie, isn't it? I hope you guys liked it! The next chapter is the last! Please review, at least as a present for my birthday!

To _jazzflame: _I'm glad that you noticed that detail! I'll explain why that is so in this chapter.

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! It was your birthday? Happy birthday, and happy holidays!

To _avrilavril: _Thank you so much!

To _Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace: _Thank you! I'll be searching for the next plot… Hopefully I can come up with one!

To _EYESviolet: _Ha, mild hatred? I _loathe _him… I just barely refrain from murdering him (: Thank you so much! You're still my bestie!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Your talent of forgetting (: You've been my 200th, and 300th reviewer! Amazing!

To _Lost O'Fallon: _I suppose you'll see what happens! I hope you like it… thank you!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _You do that (:

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _300th reviewer! Thank you!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Actually, the one before it was the 300th, lol.

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _I love the number of reviews you give me! This is the record amount of times I've written your name! I love 'Secrets' too!

To _sweet-tang-honney: _Thank you so much!

To _mekom: _That is a highly debatable subject (: I hope you like it.

To _LittleMissSmile: _Thank you so much!

To _britstar4: _Don't worry, I have the answer to this question in this chapter!

To _TheLovelySarcastic: _Thank you! I really did focus a lot about the love part… I would want to murder them too. :P My, we are violent people! Thank you!

To _Kira-Hope: _I really hope that you like this chappie!

To _laurelley: _Ha, I am a dark-fan, after-all! I hope you like this chappie… there's still two left!

To _azulaiii: _Don't worry, there's more!

To _Buckbeak Ate My Wand: _Thank you! Poor Hermione…

To _KraZiiePyroxHavemoreFun: _You'll see! (:

To _stewart02: _Thank you, and I hope you like this chappie!

To _smileylol: _It's interesting how everyone loves Harry and hates Ron (: I'll try to update as soon as possible!

To _Pixiedust Fairy: _Thank you!

To _west carson girl: _Two more chapters, and that's it! (… And maybe an alternate ending… just _maybe). _Thank you!

To _nat: _Thank you!

To _magentasouth: _Don't worry, the answer to that is in this chappie!

To _Pixiedust Fairy: _I might create an alternative ending to this story, but there is a big possibility that I won't.

To _Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike: _Your welcome (:

To _Riane's Codex: _Thank you so much! I'm grateful that you said what parts you actually liked about this story.


	31. Sometimes I Let Go

**Disclaimer: **I do not own 'Harry Potter'. This story is only for entertainment purposes, and no profit is being made! All right goes to J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Notes: **This is the last chapter! Oh my gods! I can't… believe that… Ah! I love you all so much for coming this far with me… I hope to meet all of you guys sometime in the future! I really hope that you all like this chapter, and please, please leave me a review! PM me if you want to, I love having conversations with other fanfiction authors. This is the _very last chapter, _so please review!

_But you can't hold on to water  
It fills you up but never stays  
It's only good to wash away today  
And you're loving me like water  
You're slipping through my fingers' touch  
Natural disaster, love  
Bringing on the flood, of love  
Love me like a flood, a flood  
Bring it on_

_-Cheryl Cole, The Flood _

Darkness was chasing her. He was sprinting down the small, winding paths and reaching out with his greedy, malicious fingers. He was gaining speed rapidly, flying down the road with despair trailing in its wake. Every miniscule bit of him screamed power and hissed danger. Hating eyes glared with blood lust and sharp claws scratched, allowing sweet blood drip down innocent victims' skins.

Who was Hermione to run from him?

Running from Darkness… one would need all four attributes of the four Houses of Hogwarts to beat. You'd surely need your courage, and your intelligence should never fail you. You'd need your clever mind and a warm heart so as to never be drawn into Darkness' tempting reign. So many had attempted to run, to hide. But only so many could resist the Dark side, whether it simply cowardice or if it was power that one sought.

Hermione was running from Darkness.

She heard Nott's shriek of hysteria and anger ring fiercely in her ears, making her heart pound faster. Theodore Nott will never be able to change, no; he will never be like Draco and Blaise. He was evil from the start. No excuse could make up for his malevolence, pureblooded or not. His heart was black with twisted and dark ways, and blood, other people's blood, were spilt upon his merciless hands.

She had seen Harry and Ron's bodies lying at his feet. Though he hadn't murdered them himself, he had tortured them. He had shouted curses and hurt them. Nott was a murderer, a cold one, and that could never be changed.

The only part the strengthened her deadened heart was that Ginny had not been among the dead bodies lying at the Death Eater's feet.

That thought alone drove Hermione to run: run the crazy path away from Darkness, run with all of your heart and your soul, run, just run, and just survive. Find Ginny. Find Draco. Find Blaise. Find them and run.

There was nowhere left to hide. There was nowhere left to pretend. There was no disguise to smother their identities and no place that was safe.

Just run.

Disappearing with a sharp _crack, _Hermione apparated to the perimeters of the Zabini Residence. She hoped with all her heart that Ginny would be here… She would warn them… Run…

Hope. Of course there was hope… Blaise had taken down some wards on the Zabini Residence… perhaps she could get in?

The Zabini's mansion stood high and tall above her, towering over her small, trembling figure. However, unlike many other mansions, this particular one had a feeling of warmth and safety. The tall white columns were formidable, but they also represented strength and courage. Though the glass windows were black and blank, there were specks of candlelight and it radiated a nice aura.

Running up the stone path towards the grand manor, she felt a strange lurch in her heart. For a moment, she felt dead. She felt as if everything around her was withering, and she felt as if the colors had lost their vividness.

It was the feeling of hopelessness.

In that moment, she had thought that it meant nothing to live anyhow. What life was worth living if they were always on the run? What life to live if they fought danger and death at every corner and turn?

_No, Hermione. Fight on. _

As long as hope reigned… Could their possibly still be hope now? The wards of magic that sizzled around the are suddenly melted around Hermione's body, welcoming her in. Hermione blasted the door open, screaming Ginny's name as she ran into the marble hall.

"Hermione?" a familiar redhead stepped out of a bedroom from the upstairs. Her eyes were droopy, as she was just awoken by Hermione's shrieks. A bathrobe was tied around her body, and she yawned, blinking rapidly to clear away the foggy sleepiness that covered her eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Another door swung open, revealing a shocked Blaise. "What happened?"

"He's back! He's back! _Voldemort's back!" _Hermione cried. "We've got to run; we––"

"Are you sure?" Ginny interrupted, suddenly alert. "Is it really? Are you––"

Hermione shook her head feverishly, amber eyes imploring her friend to believe her. "I got my memory back! I can't explain everything now… but Voldemort! He killed Harry and Ron! He––"

"Hermione, you have experienced many horrifying events, but I doubt––"

"NO! _We. Must. RUN!" _Hermione was hysteric as she screeched at them, waving her arms desperately. "He's going to kill... he killed Harry and Ron, Ginny! _HE KILLED THEM!" _

Ginny stood frozen, her jaw open and her skin white with terror. Her eyes were wide open and dilated with disbelief. "Harry... Ron...?" Her thin frame, still recovering from the torture in the Riddle House, was trembling. "No... I don't believe you! Harry wouldn't... No, my brother..." her voice choked up, collasping as she keeled over and fell on her knees. "No! I have to check on them! I want to see... I don't believe you!"

"Please, Ginny," Hermione whispered brokenly. "You, Blaise, and Draco are all that I have left. Run with me. Please... I can't bear for you to... to... _I can't lose you too." _

There seemed to be a moment in time where the clock stopped ticking. The world stopped revolving, and there was just that time... they simply stared, silent tears in their eyes. Finally, Ginny nodded slowly, looking as if it hurt her to simply move her head up and down. Her shoulders sagged and her head bowed, the famous flaming Weasley hair a curtain in front of her face.

The prospect of their two best friends' deaths hit them like a slap in the face. It felt so... incomplete. Though Hermione was always aware that Harry's life hung on a thread, she had still believed that the good always won. She had thought that Harry would win.

Blaise's wand suddenly appeared in his hand, his dark eyes sharpening as a long, wailing _boom_ echoed across the horizon. He waved his wand expertly, and many items went zooming to his hand. _"Accio travelling bag!" _A large bag appeared within a second, and the items all shot into it, lining up perfectly.

Hermione took a deep breath and focused, trying to channel away the pain so that her mind would work. She hoisted Ginny up into standing position, and her heart clenched as the youngest Weasley leaned against her as if a limp, dead doll. "We've got to run! Draco––"

Blaise immediately spun around. "Come on, we'll Floo to the Malfoy Manor and run." He grabbed Hermione and Ginny's arms harshly, none of them protesting despite the firm grip, and yanked them into the fireplace, spitting 'Malfoy Manor' out and all of them disappearing from the Zabini's Residence.

They toppled over the Malfoy's fireplace less-than-gracefully, but at the moment, dignity did not matter. Living mattered. Surviving mattered.

"DRACO MALFOY!" Hermione screeched, scrambling up and running towards the staircase. Panic began to build, once again, inside of her. "DRACO!"

She heard Blaise and Ginny clamber to follow her as she ran towards where she knew was his bedroom (because of her previous stay at Malfoy Manor). With a loud _bang, _his door was blasted into splinters of wood to reveal the blonde, who was gripping his wand and staring at them with terror.

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him towards Ginny and Blaise, who were yanking the front door open.

"What the hell–?"

"We've got to run, Draco!" Hermione hissed, shoving him out the door and running towards the perimeters of the manor. Bitter, frosty air bit at her skin and made her shiver. The grass lightly ticked her ankles, but it wasn't alive. It felt cold.

"VOLDEMORT'S BACK!" Hermione grabbed his arm harshly, sprinting towards where Ginny and Blaise stood. Draco put up no more resistance as he ran, this time overtaking Hermione and pulling her along. His silver eyes were terrified yet there was a strange glint of courage in those eyes as well: Was it hope again?

"Where to go?" Blaise shouted. "We don't have anywhere safe–"

A loud boom of thunder and a strike of lightning shot through the dark skies. The sun was completely hidden from their view: it was as if it were night again. The sun: the symbol of light. With no light––

Suddenly, it dawned on her. There was no winning or hiding when it came to the Dark side. There was no running. No matter how fast they ran, they would be found and lives would be lost. No, there was another path.

"Hold my hand," Hermione whispered, eerily calm. Her insides were turning with turmoil and emotions, but her face was cool and detached. She knew what she had to do. It was always there, staring at her… She only had to make this choice.

After exchanging confused glances, they grabbed her waiting hand. Now was not the time to doubt each other… They were in this together, and if they didn't trust each other, they had no one.

There were a series of bangs and all four turned in unison to see dark, hooded people running up the hill, holding their wands up and rushing towards them… Silver masks shimmered in the minimal light: the mask of a Death Eater.

At the point was Lord Voldemort, crimson eyes flashing with malice and his pale, ghostly skin glinting…

"HERMIONE!" Ginny's sharp shriek interrupted Hermione's mournful thoughts. Her eyes pleaded Hermione to do something; her expression implored anyone to help them.

Hermione took a deep breath. She imagined Tom doing the same thing as she was doing now. She summoned her magic, drawing it up inside of her. She felt a warm glow of power surround her heart and soul, encasing her with light. It felt so… pure, so beautiful. It glowed and pulsed as if it were awake. The locket seemed to wrap itself around her heart, as if a snake, and protect her.

"_Tempus omnia sed memorias privat!" _Hermione screamed, a flash of golden light shooting out of her wand and seeming to be a blade of gold as it shot across the clearing, lighting it with bronze reflections. Colors seemed to whirl around the four connected figures, spinning and twirling around them…

Wind pulled at the tendrils of Hermione's hair and grabbed her arms. Magic lifted her feet off of the ground, making her fly…

She thought she saw a flash of recognition in Lord Voldemort's eyes as they disappeared. She thought she saw something akin to regret in those blood red eyes. She thought that, for only a moment, those crimson irises turned that beautiful, layered grey ones, staring at her with love.

She would never know if Lord Voldemort connected with his other self, Tom Riddle. She would never know if the Wizarding World would ever redeem itself without the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione was going to the past. She was going to see the young Tom Riddle.

Hermione had lost so much, and that she knew of. She had lost her loving parents: her mother, who filled her with hugs and kisses, and her father, who smiled and complimented.

She had lost her childhood to fighting against the darkness and running from evil wizards and witches. Her moment to be able to be youngand naïve… it was all gone. Oblivion and being blissfully ignorant was ripped away from her.

She had lost her first love in a battle where she fought against him. He had saved her by sacrificing his own life. Would Hermione have died in that battle if she had killed him beforetime? There may have never been a battle. However, Hermione couldn't bring herself to regret it. Though his life was not worth so many in the world, he had changed. And that meant a lot.

She had lost Harry and Ron in the end. She would never see them grin mischievously and sneak out in the dark. She would never see Ron overstuff his mouth and joke about the strangest things and go on for hours about Quidditch. She would never see Harry give her that knowing look and laugh and confide to her his deepest emotions. She had lost her two best friends: two friends in which had been by her side since she was eleven years old.

They had been through so much. They had fought dark wizards, found light in the deepest pits, and ran through the bitter cold. They had fought emotional turmoil, went through dramatic romances, and formed a teenage rebellion group. They had saved lives and families and lost some on the way.

Hermione would never see them again.

The colors flashing across her cider-colored eyes represented her life. So much was red: red, crimson blood and Ron's flaming hair. So much was green: Harry's green eyes. So much was grey: Draco Malfoy's eyes, the dark storms on the horizon, the structure of the Riddle House… and Tom's eyes. Tom's eyes were grey.

In her hand were three people's lives, three people whom all trusted her and depended on her to find a way to live. One was her best friend and the other two were people who rebelled against what their blood had set for them to do.

She didn't regret any part of her life. She lived and loved and hurt and hated. It was life that she lived, everything that she had lost, and everything that she had loved.

Hermione's heart was at peace. She was going to meet Tom as a young man. She was going to meet him again and change things. Maybe Harry wouldn't become the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe Death Eaters wouldn't ever be created.

Tom is always going to be in her heart. He is there, undying, an eternal flame, just like her love. He is always there, in her necklace, against her heart.

_In a place so dark  
So sullen so cold  
Lays Laden  
Intangible, amorphous  
Cold biting the tips of fingers  
To fill thy heart with ice and hear  
The mournful wail of Laden._

_In a place of light__  
__So docile so warm__  
__Lays Freedom__  
__A beam of light, shining through__  
__Shying away the shadows__  
__To fill thy heart with fire and hear__  
__The ringing laughter of Freedom._

_In a place of mystery__  
__So aloof so unknown__  
__Lays two of difference__  
__One of dark and other of light__  
__To fight with one another__  
__To be cloaked by mist__  
__By fog by smoke__  
__Unknown to one another._

_Why can't one live while the other survive?  
One might ask another  
Because Laden and Freedom  
Can never coexist  
Lest they love each other. _

END

**Author's Notes: **Oh my goodness. It's done. It's the end. I'm just staring at my computer screen… I can't believe it's actually finished.

I really hope that you all liked this chapter, especially since it is the last. I also hope that I made it clear enough that Hermione sent the four of them to Tom Riddle's time. For now, I'm going to be slowly revising all of the chapters, so if you see a story alert from me, you'll know why.

I want to thank all of you who read, alerted, favorited, and reviewed. You are all my inspiration and my encouragement… I love you all!

I just want to mention _sweet-tang-honney _and _vswimming12: _You two reviewed every single chapter: from chapter one to chapter thirty. Thank you two so much!

I love you all, and I hope to see you sometimes in the future. Thank you to the people who wished me happy birthday. Happy Holidays to everyone!

Do check out my other stories and my newest Tomione, '_Velvet Roses', _which is deliciously dark and evil!

Thank you, everyone!

~chrissy

To _Kira-Hope: _Thank you so much! I hope you like this one (:

To _IsabellaEnglund: _Thank you so much, and you too!

To _Edward-is-sexier-than-Mike: _Your welcome (:

To _devilsbard: _I can respect your opinion as long as you can respect mine. I believe that you could've worded your own thoughts in a nicer way to not offend my readers and I. Please try to be more polite next time.

To _Megii of Mysteri OusStranger: _Thank you, and you too!

To _sNAPpyDraGon: _Aw, I love my present! Lightning is a very good pony… thank you! (:

To _sweet-tang-honney: _You too!

To _west carson girl: _Thank you so much! I do loathe Ron. I do also tend to be a tad bit insane and violent (:

To _west carson girl: _I sent the author a PM with my own thoughts… *sly look.

To _laurelley: _I guess you'll see what happens here!

To _Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace: _Wow, yeah, very freaky! What a coincidence! Happy Holidays to you too!

To _sweetgal3: _Thank you!

To _KraZiiePyroxHavemoreFun: _Happy Birthday! And remember to say happy birthday to Tom too!

To _abcdreamer: _Thank you!

To _mekom: _Thank you! I can't believe it's ending as well…

To _Buckbeak Ate My Wand: _Thank you! I hope you like the end.

To _KittyFox1: _A lot of conflicting feelings, eh?

To _azulaiii: _I'm sorry, but this is still the last chappie): On the other hand, thank you so much for noticing!

To _Steph672: _Thank you!

To _Lost O'Fallon Girl: _Really? If I get the time, I'll read it!

To _vswimming12: _Thank you! You read it two times? Really? I'm flattered! Tomione. Happy Holidays!

To _sooofashionata20: _Thank you! I hope you like this chappie too!

To _cnt fink of a penname they are all gon: _I'm sorry, but this is the actual end!

To _ginny7777: _I know!

To _Dark Tykhe: _Thank you for all of your reviews! They really encouraged me.

To _smileylol: _Happy Holidays, and thank you!

To _niiary: _Thank you! Happy Holidays!

To _Aoi Mitsukai: _Tell me what you think of it!


End file.
